“Amusing?” said I, slightly surprised, for I must say I had not till then considered it possible to be amusing on one single note, however flute-like. “Even more--really witty. Don’t you think so?” “Witty?” said I, with increased surprise. She looked at me and smiled. “You evidently have not found her so,” she said. “No. Nor do I care for wit in ladies. Your sister has been everything that is perfect--sympathetic, an interested listener, one who shares one’s opinions completely, and who never says a word more than is absolutely necessary; but thank goodness I have not yet observed her descend to the unwomanliness of wit.” Mrs. Menzies-Legh looked at me as though I were being funny. It was a way she had, and one which I particularly disliked; for surely few things are more offensive than to be treated as amusing when you are not. “Evidently,” said she, “you have a soothing and restraining influence over Betti, dear Baron. Has she, then, never made you laugh?” “Certainly not,” said I with conviction. “But look at Mr. Jellaby--do you see how he is laughing?” “At his own dull jokes, I should say,” I said, bestowing a momentary glance on the slouching figure in front. His face was turned toward Frau von Eckthum, and he was certainly laughing, and to an unbecoming extent. “Oh, not a bit. He is laughing at Betti.” “I have heard your sister,” said I emphatically, “talking in general company--such company, that is, as this tour affords--and she has done it invariably seriously, and rather poetically, but never has more than smiled herself, and never raised that doubtful tribute, a laugh.” “That,” said Mrs. Menzies-Legh, “was because you were there, dear Baron. I tell you, you soothe and restrain.” I bowed. “I am glad,” I said, “that I exert a good influence over the party.” “Oh, very,” said she, her eyelashes cast down. “But what does Betti talk to you about, then? The scenery?” “Your tactful sister, my dear lady, does not talk at all. Or rather, what she says consists entirely of one word, spoken indeed with so great a variety of expression that it expands into volumes. It is that that I admire so profoundly in her. If all ladies would take a lesson----” “But--what word?” interrupted Mrs. Menzies-Legh, who had been listening with a growing astonishment on her face--astonishment, I suppose, that so near a relative should be also a person of tact and delicacy. “Your sister simply says Oh. It sounds a small thing, and slightly bald stated in this manner, yet all I can say is that if every woman----” Mrs. Menzies-Legh, however, made a little exclamation and bent down hastily. “Dear Baron,” she said, “I’ve got a thorn or something in my shoe. I’ll wait for our caravan to come up, and get in and take it out. _Auf Wiedersehen._” And she fell behind.