Breakfast-time, with George Vine quietly partaking of his toast and giving furtive glances at a _Beloe_ in a small squat bottle. He was feeding his mind at the same time that he supplied the wants of his body. Now it was a bite of toast, leaving in the embrowned bread such a mark as was seen by the dervish when the man asked after the lost camel; for the student of molluscous sea-life had lost a front tooth. Now it was a glance at the little gooseberry-shaped creature, clear as crystal, glistening in the clear water with iridescent hues, and trailing behind it a couple of filaments of an extreme delicacy and beauty that warranted the student's admiration. Louise was seated opposite, performing matutinal experiments, so it seemed, with pots, cups, an urn, and various infusions and crystals. Pradelle was reading the paper, and Harry was dividing his time between eating some fried ham and glancing at the clock, which was pointing in the direction of the hour when he should be at Van Heldre's. "More tea, Louie; too sweet," said the head of the house, passing his cup, _via_ Pradelle. The cup was filled up and passed back, Louise failing to notice that Pradelle manoeuvred to touch her hand as he played his part in the transfer. Then the door opened, and Liza, the brown-faced, black-haired Cornish maid, entered, bearing a tray with an untouched cup of tea, a brown piece of ham on its plate, and a little covered dish of hot toast. "Please, 'm, Miss Vine says she don't want no breakfast this morning." The _Beloe_ bottle dropped back into George Vine's pocket. "Eh! My sister ill?" he said anxiously. "No, sir; she seems quite well, but she was gashly cross with me, and said why didn't Miss Louie bring it up." "Liza, I forbad you to use that foolish word, `gashly,'" said Louise, pouring out a fresh cup of tea, and changing it for the one cooling on the tray. "Why don't you take up auntie's breakfast as you always do! You know she doesn't like it sent up." Louise made no reply to her brother, but turned to Pradelle. "You will excuse me for a few minutes, Mr Pradelle," she said, as she rose. "Excuse--you?" he replied, with a peculiar smile; and, rising in turn, he managed so badly as he hurried to the door to open it for Louise's passage with the tray, that he and Liza, bent on the same errand, came into collision. "Thank you, Mr Pradelle," said Louise, quietly, as she passed out with the tray, and Liza gave him an indignant glance as she closed the door. "Ha, ha! What a bungle!" cried Harry mockingly, as he helped himself to more ham. George Vine was absorbed once more in the study of the _Beloe_. "Never you mind, my lord the count," said Pradelle in an undertone; "I don't see that you get on so very well." Harry winced. "What are you going to do this morning?" "Fish."