To the Major the hazel copse and the bluebells--the young oak plantation--and all the lovely details of mosses and flowering grasses, and starry anemones--were odious. He felt in a hurry to get back to his club, and steep himself in London pleasures. All the benevolence seemed to have been crushed out of him. Christabel saw that her old friend was out of spirits, and contrived to be by his side on their way back to the boat, trying to cheer him with sweetest words and loveliest smiles. "Have we tired you?" she asked. "The afternoon is very warm." "Tired me! You forget how I ramble over the hills at home. No; I am just a trifle put out--but it is nothing. I had news of a death this morning--a death that makes me richer by four hundred a year. If it were not for respect for my dead cousin who so kindly made me his heir, I think I should go to-night to the most rowdy theatre in London, just to put myself in spirits." "Which are the rowdy theatres, Uncle Oliver?" "Well, perhaps I ought not to use such a word. The theatres are all good in their way--but there are theatres and theatres. I should choose one of those to which the young men go night after night to see the same piece--a burlesque, or an opera bouffe--plenty of smart jokes and pretty girls." "Why have you not taken me to those theatres?" "We have not come to them yet. You have seen Shakespeare and modern comedy--which is rather a weak material as compared with Sheridan--or even with Colman and Morton, whose plays were our staple entertainment when I was a boy. You have heard all the opera singers?" "Yes, you have been very good. But I want to see 'Cupid and Psyche'--two of my partners last night talked to me of 'Cupid and Psyche,' and were astounded that I had not seen it. I felt quite ashamed of my ignorance. I asked one of my partners, who was particularly enthusiastic, to tell me all about the play--and he did--to the best of his ability, which was not great--and he said that a Miss Mayne--Stella Mayne--who plays Psyche, is simply adorable. She is the loveliest woman in London, he says--and was greatly surprised that she had not been pointed out to me in the Park. Now really, Uncle Oliver, this is very remiss in you--you who are so clever in showing me famous people when we are driving in the Park." "My dear, we have not happened to see her--that is all," replied the Major, without any responsive smile at the bright young face smiling up at him. "You have seen her, I suppose?" "Yes, I saw her when I was last in London." "Not this time?" "Not this time." "You most unenthusiastic person. But, I understand your motive. You have been waiting an opportunity to take Jessie and me to see this divine Psyche. Is she absolutely lovely?" "Loveliness is a matter of opinion. She is generally accepted as a particularly pretty woman." "When will you take me to see her?"