“Carrying on together!” vociferated Madame. “Jupiter!” “And that they had come to the conclusion that there was probably oxygen in certain of the holy fixed stars. Oxygen, so the elderly female--” “Oxygen in an elderly female!” cried Madame, in the greatest excitement. “Jupiter, is this true?” Mr. Sagittarius was about to bring forward a flat denial when the Prophet, leaning behind the terrified back of Lady Julia, hissed in his ear,-- “Say yes, or he’ll find out who you really are!” “Yes,” cried Mr. Sagittarius, in a catapultic manner. Madame began to show elaborate symptoms of preparation for a large-sized fit of hysterics. She caught her breath five or six times running in a resounding manner, heaved her bosom beneath the green chiffon and coffee-coloured lace, and tore feebly with both hands at a large medallion brooch that was doing sentry duty near her throat. “Pray, pray, Madame,” exclaimed the Prophet, who was now near his wits’ end. “Pray--” “How can I pray at table, sir?” she retorted, suddenly showing fight. “You forget yourself.” “Oh, Hennessey,” said poor Mrs. Merillia, “what does all this mean?” “Nothing, grannie, nothing except that Mr. Sagittarius is a very modest man and does not care to acknowledge the greatness of his talents. Pray sit down, Mr. Sagittarius. Here is the ice pudding. Madame, I am sure you will take some ice. Mr. Ferdinand!” “Sir?” “The ice to Madame Sagittarius instantly!” Mr. Ferdinand, who was trembling in every limb at having to assist at such a scene in his dining-room, which had hitherto been the very temple of soft conversation and the most exquisite decorum, advanced towards Madame, clattering the flat silver dish, and causing the frozen delicacy that the cook had elegantly posed upon it to run first this way and then that as if in imitative agitation. “I cannot,” sobbed Madame, beginning once more to catch her breath. “At such a moment food becomes repulsive!” “I assure you our cook’s ice puddings are quite delicious; aren’t they, grannie?” “I have no idea, Hennessey,” said Mrs. Merillia, who was so upset by the extraordinary scene at which she was presiding in the character of hostess, that she mechanically clutched the left bandeau of her delightful wig, and set it quite a quarter of an inch awry. “Try it, Madame,” cried the Prophet. “I implore you to try it.”