"My dear young lady," he said severely, "one or two of the Repertory people are as good as anyone on the London stage and a long sight better than most." "Fency," said Miss Gertrude coldly. Stewart Stevenson looked about for a way of escape, but he was hemmed round by living walls and without doing violence he could not leave his seat. Mrs. Thomson sat before him in a creaking cane chair listening to praise of her drawing-room from Jessie's dowdy friend, Miss Hendry. "My! Mrs. Thomson, it's lovely! _Whit_ a carpet--pile near up to your knees!" "D'ye like the colouring, Miss Hendry?" asked Mrs. Thomson. Miss Hendry looked round at the yellow walls and bright gilt picture frames shining in the strong incandescent light. "Mrs. Thomson," she said solemnly, "it's _chaste_!" Mrs. Thomson sighed as if the burden of her magnificence irked her, then: "How d'ye think the evening's goin'?" she whispered. "Very pleasant," Miss Hendry whispered back, "What about a game?" "I don't know," said poor Mrs. Thomson. "_I_ would say it would be the very thing, but mebbe Jessie wouldn't think it genteel." A girl stood up beside the piano with her violin, and somebody said "Hush!" loudly, so Mrs. Thomson at once subsided, in so far as a very stout person can subside in an inadequate cane chair, and composed herself to listen to Scots airs very well played. The familiar tunes cheered the company wonderfully; in fact, they so raised Mr. Taylor's spirits that, to Jessie's great disgust, and in spite of the raised eyebrows of the Simpsons, he pranced in the limited space left in the middle of the room and invited anyone who liked to take a turn with him. "Jolly thing a fiddle," said Stewart Stevenson cheerily to Miss Muriel Simpson. "The violin is always nice," primly replied Miss Muriel, "but I don't care for Scotch airs--they're so common. We like high-class music." "Perhaps you play yourself?" Mr. Stevenson suggested. "Oh no," said Miss Muriel in a surprised tone. "Do you care for reading?" he asked her sister. "Oh, I like it well enough, but it's an awful waste of time." "Are you so very busy, then?" "Well, what with calling, and going into town, and the evenings so taken up with dances and bridge parties, it's quite a rush." "It must be," said Mr. Stevenson. "And besides," said Miss Gertrude, "we do quite a lot of fency work." "But still, Gertrude," her sister reminded her, "we nearly always read on Sunday afternoons." "That's so," said Gertrude; "but people have got such a way of dropping in to tea. By the way, Mr. Stevenson, we'll hope to see you, if you should happen to be in our direction any Sunday." "That is very kind of you," said Mr. Stevenson. "There!" cried Mrs. Thomson, bounding in her chair, "Miss Elizabeth's going to sing. That's fine!"