She permitted a gigantic sigh to leave her bosom and to wander freely among the locks of those at the table. Sir Tiglath, who, on being assaulted by her learning, had shown momentary symptoms of apoplexy, now gave a loud grunt, while the Prophet, perceiving that his grandmother and Lady Julia were quite unequal to the occasion, hastily replied,-- “Yes, Berkeley Square is very convenient in may ways.” “Ah!” said Mr. Sagittarius, keeping a wary eye on Sir Tiglath and re-addressing himself to Mrs. Merillia, “the Berkeley Square. But if you lived in the one behind Kimmins’s Mews, it would be quite another pair of boots, would it not, ma’am?” Lady Julia, who was sitting next to Mr. Sagittarius, shifted her chair nearer to the Prophet, and whispered, “I’m sure he is dangerous, Mr. Vivian!” while Mrs. Merillia, in the greatest perplexity, replied,-- “The one behind Mr. Kimmins’s Mews?” “Ay, over against Brigwell’s Buildings, just beyond the Pauper Lunatic Asylum.” Lady Julia turned pale. “I daresay,” answered Mrs. Merillia, bravely. “But I am not acquainted with the neighbourhood you mention.” “You know the Mouse?” At this abrupt return to the subject of mice Lady Julia became really terrified. “Be frank with me, Mr. Vivian,” she whispered to the Prophet, under cover of boiled salmon; “is he a ratcatcher?” “Good Heavens, no!” whispered back the Prophet. “He’s--he’s quite the contrary.” “But--” “What mouse?” said Mrs. Merillia, endeavouring to seem pleasantly at ease, though she, too, was beginning to feel a certain amount of alarm at these strange beings’ persistent discussion of the inhabitants of the wainscot. “Do you allude to any special mouse?” “I do, ma’am. I allude to the Mouse that has helped to make Madame and self what we are.” Sir Tiglath began to roll about in his chair preparatory to some deliverance, and Mrs. Merillia, casting a somewhat agitated glance at her grandson, answered,-- “Really. I did not know that anything so small could have so much influence.” “It may be small, ma’am,” said Mr. Sagittarius. “But to a sensitive nature it often seems gigantic.” “You mean at night, I suppose? Does it disturb you very much?” “We hear it, ma’am, but it lulls us to rest.” “Indeed. That is very fortunate. I fear it might keep me awake.” “So we thought at first. But now we should miss it. Should we not, Sophronia?” “Doubtless,” replied Madame, arranging a napkin carefully over her fichu, and dealing rigorously with some mayonnaise sauce. “It has been our perpetual companion for many years, _mus amicus humano generi_.” Sir Tiglath swelled, and Mrs. Merillia responded,-- “I see, a pet. Is it white?” “No, ma’am,” returned Mr. Sagittarius, “it is a rich, chocolate brown except on wet days. Then it takes on the hue of a lead pencil.” “Indeed!” said Mrs. Merillia, trying nobly to remain social. “How very curious!” “We worship it in summer,” continued Mr. Sagittarius. “In the sultry season it soothes and calms us.”