MR. L.-B. (_detaining him_). But look here again. Take the Louvre. (_As MR. MILBOARD disclaims any desire to take it._) Now, nobody talksh about the Gallery _there_, and yet, if you only egshemp the thingsh that are rude and vulgar, and go quietly roun'---- SECOND COMMERCIAL (_who sees a Socratic opening at last_). Might I ask you, Sir, to enumerate any pictures there, that, in your opinion, are "rude and vulgar"? [_MR. MILBOARD avails himself of this diversion to escape._ MR. L.-B. In the Grand Gallery of the Louvre there'sh an enormous amount of shtuff, as everybody who'sh an artisht and a lover of Art knowsh. If I had a friend who wash thinking of going to the Louvre (_here he looks round vaguely for MR. MILBOARD_), I should shay to him, "Do you _care_ about pictursh at all? If you _don't_, don't borrer yourshelf 'bout it. If you _do_, drop in shome day with Me, and I'll give you a hint what to shee." (_As he cannot make out what has become of MR. MILBOARD, he has to content himself with the SECOND COMMERCIAL._) If you were _my_ boy, I should shay to you---- SECOND COMM. (_at the door_). Pardon me for remarking that, if I was your boy, I should probably prefer to take my own opinion. (_With dignified independence._) I never follow other persons' taste in Art! [_He goes out as the Smoke-room Page enters._ MR. L.-B. (_hazily with half-closed eyes_). If you wash _my_ boy, I should shay to you, very quietly, very sherioushly, and without 'tempting to dictate----(_Perceives that he is addressing the Page._) Jus' bring me 'nother glash whiskey an' warrer. [_He is left sitting._ [Illustration] THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. A CONTRAST. _The Stables at Saddlesprings, the Wheelers' Country House near Bykersall. MISS DIANA'S Horse BAYARD discovered in his Stall._ BAYARD (_talking to himself, as is the habit of some horses when alone_). I can't make it out. She's here. All the family came down yesterday--I heard the omnibus start for the station to meet them. And yet she hasn't sent for me; hasn't even been near me! She always used to rush in here and kiss me on the nose the very first--She's ill--that's it of course--sprained her fetlock or something. If she was well, she'd have had me saddled as soon as she'd had her morning feed, and we'd have gone for a canter together somewhere.... I hope she'll get well soon. I'm sick of being taken out by the stable-man; he's so dull--no notion of conversation beyond whistling! Now, Miss Diana would talk to me the whole way.... Perhaps her hands and seat might have been----But what did _that_ matter? I liked to feel she was on my back, I liked the sound of her pretty voice, and the touch of her hand when she patted me after her ride.... (_He pricks his ears._) Why, that's her voice outside now! She's all right, after all. She's coming in to see me!... I _knew_ she couldn't have forgotten!