"More like six or seven-and-twenty, Miss Piper. Bless you, she had long outgrown short frocks and pinafores in those days. Fourteen--fifteen--yes; it must be fully fifteen years ago. It was the season that we got up the 'Honeymoon' for the garrison theatricals. I played the Duke. It has been one of my best parts ever since. And there was a scratch company of Italian opera-singers doing wretched business. We got up a subscription for them, poor things. But fancy 'La Bianca' still singing Rosina in the 'Barber!'" "She looked charming, I can tell you. I don't say that her voice may not be a little worn in the upper notes----" "I wonder there's a rag of it left," put in the Major. "Yes; a little worn. But she knows how to sing. If one must listen to such trivial, florid music, that's the only way to sing it." "Ah, there we shan't agree, Miss Piper! No, no; I always stand up for Rossini. I don't pretend to be a great swell at music, but I have an ear, and I like a toon. Give me a toon that I can remember and whistle, and I'll make you a present of Wagner and the other fellows, all howlings and growlings." "Major, Major," called out Dr. Hatch from the opposite side of the table, "this is terribly obsolete doctrine! We shall have you confessing next that you like sugar in your tea, and prefer a rose to a sunflower!" Mr. Bransby, wishing to avert any unpleasant shock of opinions on such high themes, here interposed. He turned the conversation back to the Italian singer, who could be abused without ruffling anybody's _amour proper_. "But who is this _prima donna_ you're talking of, Major?" said he. Miss Piper struck in before Major Mitton could reply. "It's a certain Moretti:--Bianca Moretti. We heard her last summer in a minor theatre at Brussels, with a strolling Italian Opera Company. Don't you remember, Patty?" "Moretti?" said Miss Patty, instantly breaking off in the middle of a sentence addressed to Mr. Bragg, at the sound of her sister's voice. "The woman with the fine eyes? Oh yes. I remember her particularly, because of the awful scandal there was afterwards about her and that Englishman." Several heads at the table were now turned towards Miss Patty, who shook her ginger-bread-coloured wig with a knowing air. "I was just telling the Major," said Miss Piper. "We might never have known of it, if it had not been for the Italian Consul, who was a friend of ours. It was quite a sensation! A bit out of a French novel, eh?--Oh yes; quite ready, Mrs. Bransby."