Francesca. “Oh! so it was; but I sent no telegrams on the 11th.” Penelope. “Wasn't that the day you wired Mr. Drayton that you couldn't go to the Zoo?” Francesca. “Oh yes, so I did: and to Mr. Godolphin that I could. I remember now; but that's only two.” Salemina. “How about the hairdresser whom you stopped coming from Kensington?” Francesca. “Yes, she's the third, that's all right then; but what in the world is this twelve shillings?” Penelope. “The foolish amber beads you were persuaded into buying in the Burlington Arcade?” Francesca. “No, those were seven shillings, and they are splitting already.” Salemina. “Those soaps and sachets you bought on the way home the day that you left your purse in the cab?” Francesca. “No; they were only five shillings. Oh, perhaps they lumped the two things; if seven and five are twelve, then that is just what they did. (Here she takes a pencil.) Yes, they are twelve, so that's right; what a comfort! Now here's two and six on the 13th. That was yesterday, and I can always remember yesterdays; they are my strong point. I didn't spend a penny yesterday; oh yes! I did pay half a crown for a potted plant, but it was not two and six, and it was a half-crown because it was the first time I had seen one and I took particular notice. I'll speak to Dawson about it, but it will make no difference. Nobody but an expert English accountant could find a flaw in one of these bills and prove his case.” By this time we have agreed that the weekly bill as a whole is substantially correct, and all that Salemina has to do is to estimate our several shares in it; so Francesca and I say good night and leave her toiling like Cicero in his retirement at Tusculum. By midnight she has generally brought the account to a point where a half-hour's fresh attention in the early morning will finish it. Not that she makes it come out right to a penny. She has been treasurer of the Boston Band of Benevolence, of the Saturday Morning Sloyd Circle, of the Club for the Reception of Russian Refugees, and of the Society for the Brooding of Buddhism; but none of these organisations carries on its existence by means of pounds, shillings, and pence, or Salemina's resignation would have been requested long ago. However, we are not disposed to be captious; we are too glad to get rid of the bill. If our united thirds make four or five shillings in excess, we divide them equally; if it comes the other way about, we make it up in the same manner; always meeting the sneers of masculine critics with Dr. Holmes's remark that a faculty for numbers is a sort of detached-lever arrangement that can be put into a mighty poor watch. Chapter II. The powdered footman smiles.