Other people now began to drop in; and it was _my_ turn to get put out. I heard it was Min's birthday, which I had not known before. I saw that they remembered it; while, I, had not brought her even a paltry flower! Everybody was wishing her "many happy returns of the day." I had not done so; neither had I any opportunity of atoning for my neglect, as she was too busy receiving the new comers; but, indeed, I would have been too proud to excuse myself after witnessing Mr Mawley's "effusion." He seemed to me to be guilty of unpardonable effrontery in holding Min's hand such an unconscionably long time in his, when presenting a miserable shop-bouquet; and, as for the lackadaisical airs of that insufferable donkey, Horner--I can find no words adequate wherewith to express what I thought; he was positively sickening! I did not have another chance of speaking to Min either; that is, unless I chose to bawl what I had to say across a crowded room; and, I need hardly say, I did not exactly care about that! She appeared to me to be very inconsistent, too. She seemed really much more interested in Mawley's conversation than _I_ thought any reasonable person could be; while _he_ was grinning and carrying on at a rate, which, if I had been Mrs Clyde, I would not have allowed for a moment. O, the equilibriant temperament of the "superior" sex! Min teased me yet further. She sang every song that Mawley and Horner asked her for, playing the accompaniments for the latter when he favoured the company with his idea of ballad vocalisation. Horner thought he possessed a fine tenor voice: I didn't think so, especially on this evening! But, no matter what these two asked her to do, she did. If _I_, however, requested any particular song, she said she did not believe she could manage it; her voice could not compass it; she had lent it out; or, she hadn't got it! Was it not enough to provoke one? Wouldn't you have been affected by it? In addition to Horner and Mawley, there was also an odious cousin of hers, called "Jack," or "Tom," or "Ned," or some other abominably familiar abbreviation, who hung over the piano stool, and said "Min, do this," and "Min, do that," in a way that drove me to frenzy. I hate cousins! I don't see the necessity for them. I'm sure people can get along very well without their existence. I would do away with them to-morrow by act of Parliament, if I only had the power. When everybody else who had a voice at all had exercised their vocal powers, Mrs Clyde at last asked me to sing. Instead of declining, as I would have done at any other time, on account of her slight, I bowed my acquiescence and went to the piano. To tell you the truth, I was glad of the opportunity afforded me for carrying out a petty piece of revenge against Min, of which I had suddenly bethought me.