"What, this?" replied Dick, taking out a small square envelope, rose-tinted and crested. "Oh, no, this would not be worth your powder; it's only a note from Mdlle. Lamien, and doesn't contain a cent's worth of intrigue, Mr. Tremain." "Then its looks belie it," said Philip, "for it fills me with apprehension. Let me look at it, Miss Dick, perhaps its tangible presence may allay my terrors." But Dick only shook her head, and held the little note still further away. "No, no," she cried, "it's not for you, Mr. Tremain, and I'm not going to give you even so much as a 'glim' at it." Saying this, she put it back in her dress, and smiled at Philip provokingly. "I will put up this," she exclaimed, holding out her arm, on which a ruby and diamond butterfly sparkled in a bangle setting; "and I am sure it's simply angelic of me, for this is my one and only piece of bang-up jewellery; all real and no imitation, worth double the money. Now, Mr. Tremain, three guesses out of five; and oh, ye gods, protect my cherished bauble!" She swung the pretty ornament between her finger and thumb, and the light from the wax-candles in the girandoles caught at it eagerly, as it shot forth rays tipped with rainbow gleams. Mr. Tremain sat back with a mock air and sigh of fatigue, and the two women watched him interestedly; Esther with a little smile of amusement on her softly-tinted face, and Dick with a frown of anxiety knitting her forehead. "Let me consider," said Philip, reflectively, putting the tips of his fingers together somewhat awkwardly on account of his sling, and contemplating them attentively, "only three random shots at three-score recognised admirers! Long odds in your favour, Miss Dick. Now had I but the language of flowers at my tongue's end, I might be able to make such conjunctions with the unwritten but supposable affinities, as to read at once the hidden meaning in the subtle juxtaposition of jacque roses and hyacinths. Question: Did the donor know any more about their meanings than I do?" "I can supply you with posy lore, Mr. Tremain," broke in Mrs. Newbold, "if that will be of any assistance. Know then that the red red rose expresses love, the hyacinth sport or play." "Ah, the one is contradictory of the other," replied Philip. "Your nameless admirer, Esther, could scarcely be guilty of so bold a play upon definitions as to make game of his love by his flowers. Rather let us suppose him ignorant of any deeper knowledge than their price." "I think that an equally impertinent suggestion," answered Mrs. Newbold. "A man should never count the cost where a woman is concerned."