As Goldsmith strolled back to his chambers he felt that he had made some progress in the enterprise with which he had been entrusted. He did not feel elated, but only tranquilly confident that his judgment had not been at fault when it suer-gested to him the propriety of consulting with Mrs. Abington. This was the first time that propriety and Mrs. Abington were associated. The next day he got a message that the success of his play was consolidated by a “command” performance at which the whole of his Majesty's Court would attend. This news elated him, not only because it meant the complete success of the play and the overthrow of the sentimentalists who were still harping upon the “low” elements of certain scenes, but also because he accepted it as an incident of good augury. He felt certain that Mrs. Abington would have discovered a plan by which he should be able to get possession of the letters. When he went to her after the lapse of a few days, he found that she had not been unmindful of his interests. “The fellow had the effrontery to stand beside my chair in the Mall yesterday,” said she, “but I tolerated him--nay, I encouraged him--not for your sake, mind; I do not want you to fancy that you interest me, but for the sake of the unhappy girl who was so nearly making a shocking fool of herself. Only one girl interests me more than she who nearly makes a fool of herself, and that is she who actually makes the fool of herself.” “Alas! alas! the latter is more widely represented in this evil world, Mrs. Abing ton,” said Oliver, so gravely that the actress roared with laughter. “You have too fine a comedy face to be sentimental, Dr. Goldsmith,” she said. “But to business. I tell you I even smiled upon the gentleman, for I have found that the traps which are netted with silk are invariably the most effective.” “You have found that by your experience of traps?” said Goldsmith. “The smile is the silken net?” “Even so,” said she, giving an excellent example of the fatal mesh. “Ah, Dr. Goldsmith, you would do well to avoid the woman who smiles on you.” “Alas! madam, the caution is thrown away upon me; she smiles not on me, but at me.” “Thank heaven for that, sir. No harm will come to you through being smiled at. How I stray from my text! Well, sir, the wretch, in response to the encouragement of my smile, had the effrontery to ask me for my private address, upon which I smiled again. Ah, sir, 'tis diverting when the fly begins to lure on the spider.” “'Tis vastly diverting, madam, I doubt not--to the fly.” “Ay, and to the friends of the spider. But we shall let that pass. Sir, to be brief, I did not let the gentleman know that I had a private address, but I invited him to partake of supper with me on the next Thursday night.” “Heavens! madam, you do not mean to tell me that your interest on my behalf----”