"My _dear_ Mrs. Dobbs," cried Amelia, bursting in breathlessly, "how do you do? _And_ Mr. Weatherhead! Now this is quite against rules--or, at least, against custom; for I am sure you would never make such a rule. You are far too hospitable. But as I _was_ passing--so nice to be neighbours instead of Friar's Row, though I shall ever look on Friar's Row with affection for the sake of old times. What is it the poet says about 'portions and parcels of the dreadful past'? Only there was nothing dreadful in our little suppers; and Martha's stewed tripe beyond praise." "I hope you are going to eat some of our little supper to-night," said Mrs. Dobbs, composedly. "It's Saturday, you know." "How odd you should say that! It is exactly the remark I made to Bassy this morning! Oh yes; certainly. And, as I was saying just now, it's quite _hors ligne_, as the French express it, to inflict myself on you twice in one day." "You know you are very welcome." "You're always _so_ kind, dear Mrs. Dobbs! I have been busy teaching all the morning. This very moment I have come from Miss Piper's and----" "You are not giving _her_ lessons, are you?" asked Mrs. Dobbs, looking up with a smile. "Oh dear, no! Not, I'm sure, that she would not be an excellent pupil; indeed, both of them in their different styles. One the accomplished musician, and the other so domesticated. No doubt you will hear of it from our dear Miranda, for of course she will be invited. But I thought I would mention it." "Mention what?--eh?" asked Jo Weatherhead, with impatient curiosity. "The party. They are going to give a musical party. Though really I might omit the adjective, for who could imagine the Miss Pipers giving a party that _wasn't_ musical? To be sure some persons find it rather trying. Bassy, for instance, _cannot_ altogether approve the new school. But then he was brought up in the strictest classical principles, and he is so very clever himself, that of course----!" Some native gift of incoherency which distinguished Mrs. Simpson's mind enabled her to reconcile the most conflicting claims on her admiration. "Ho, ho! a party, eh? A musical party?" said Mr. Weatherhead. "Yes; but of course there is nothing remarkable in _that_," replied Mrs. Simpson, very unexpectedly. "Nothing at all remarkable, I should think," assented Mrs. Dobbs. "Ah! But the _point_ is--oh, pussy! Poor old pussy, _did_ I hurt her? Dear, dear, dear!" In the act of throwing herself forward from her place on the sofa, in order to touch Mrs. Dobbs's arm, and thus emphasize her communication, Amelia had accidentally set her foot on the tail of the old tabby cat, who at once protested in the frankest manner. "I'm so sorry! I am so very nearsighted. Poor old pussums! Come and let us make it up--won't you, like a dear?"