"Is it?" growled Sir Peter, without moving. But Madame’s hand was stretched out to receive it, and he had to yield. "Oh hang!—Your cup, Ma’am." He almost snatched it from her. "How kind and gentle you are," almost sobbed Mrs. Poskett, with an adoring glance. The Admiral answered her with a glare. "Kind be—" he was silenced by a stern "Hush!" from Basil, and had to relieve his feelings by inarticulate splutterings. Marjolaine stood in the centre of the circle, with her hands folded in front of her, and sang very simply and unaffectedly: "Oh, dear! What can the matter be? Dear, dear! What can the matter be? Oh, dear! What can the matter be? Johnny ’s so long at the fair. He promised he ’d buy me a fairing should please me, And then for a kiss, oh! he vowed he would tease me, He promised he ’d buy me a bunch of blue ribbons To tie up my bonny brown hair." Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn applauded in the grand manner with the tips of his fingers, as if he had been at the Opera. "Brava! Brava!" he cried, with the discrimination of a connoisseur. "Brava be hanged!" roared the Admiral. "Capital!" He turned to Miss Ruth. "Where’s little Miss Barbara?" To his consternation Miss Ruth hissed a fierce "Hsssh!" at him. "Well, I ’m—!" he muttered to himself. Marjolaine sang the second verse. You are to understand that she made a very pleasant picture as she stood warbling the quaint old ballad with unaffected simplicity. Jack evidently thought so, for, braving the danger of discovery, he stood, gaunt and hungry, watching her from behind the curtains in Doctor Sternroyd’s window. Indeed, all the Walk was affected by her charm. Heads nodded to the tune; feet kept time to the rhythm; hearts melted—Mrs. Poskett’s heart, especially. She gazed reproachfully at the Admiral. What, indeed, could the matter be? and why, indeed, was her Johnnie, whose name was Peter, so long at the fair? Jim and Nanette had come into the circle, fascinated by the song. Jim was trying to insinuate an arm round Nanette’s ample waist, but only got pinched for his pains. "He promised he’d buy me a basket of posies, A garland of lilies, a garland of roses, A little straw hat to set off the blue ribbons That tie up my bonny brown hair. And it’s oh, dear! What can the matter be? Dear, dear! What can the matter be? Oh, dear! What can the matter be? Johnny ’s so long at the fair!" Almost unconsciously the whole Walk drifted into the song, so that the last lines were being sung by everybody. The Admiral, indeed, who never knew when a song was over, went on long after everybody else had finished. In his enthusiasm he added weird shouts to the words:—"Oh! Damme! Ahoy! What can the matter be?" Mrs. Poskett burst into loud sobs. "Oh, don’t!—I can’t bear it!" Ruth turned fiercely on the Admiral. "Brute!" she cried.