“Come and help me to choose a new song for to-night,” he said, after a warm greeting. “I have not seen you for a fortnight, Miss Summerhayes. I hope we shall meet to-night.” “Not if you are coming to dinner,” said Janet, demurely; “we do not come down to dinner when there is company, Julia and I.” “Oh, that is the explanation?” said Meredith, and, with a widening of his eyes and elevation of his eyebrows, he added, “Then I shall not come to dinner to-night.” Janet said nothing, for what had she to say? She had no part in these arrangements of her superiors. She gave a glance at the song he held in his hand. “It would be better to practise those you have than to bring anything new.” “Ah, if you could persuade her of that! and if we singers could be left free to think of the song without hammering at the accompaniment! How well you play, Miss Summerhayes.” “I can do nothing else,” said Janet; “I was taught only for that.” “Yes,” said Meredith, “that is the right way--to do one thing well, and stick to it; but, unfortunately, everybody is not of that opinion. Most ladies think that they can do anything--or, at least, try.” “No more than most men,” said Janet, quickly. “Oh, don’t you think so? I think you’ll allow we’ve a different way of setting to work. We do what we can, what we have studied; but you ladies try a little of everything without having studied at all. Miss Harwood has a nice little voice, but no science even in that, and she knows no more of the piano than of the steam-engine. Don’t contradict me, Miss Summerhayes, for I am sure I must know best. I have suffered from it too much.” “You have no appearance of suffering at all,” said Janet. “Ah, that’s all my power of dissembling,” he said. Janet had got her crewels by this time, and she had a vague consciousness that it would be well not to continue this conversation, so she said, “Good-morning!” and was about to pass him on her way home when he put out his hand to detain her. “Miss Summerhayes, don’t run away. I am going in the same direction. We are prevented from making friends in the evening, but I should not like to let an opportunity slip.” “Who keeps us from making friends, Mr. Meredith? You are making a great mistake.” “Am I? If you think you know Gussy Harwood, it is you that are quite mistaken, Miss Summerhayes. How quickly you walk; I can scarcely keep up with you.” He laughed, and took a stride or two which made Janet’s attempt to hurry away ridiculous. “There is no harm in walking along the same pavement, even with a person you disapprove of.” “I don’t disapprove of--any one,” said Janet. “Oh, that is more than I bargained for. You must promise to play for me to-night.” “But you said you were not coming to-night,” said Janet. “So I did,” he answered, laughing; “but never mind--not to dinner, certainly. You must promise me to play, and not to stop short all at once, as you did the other night, whatever you may hear.”