The Honorable Bertie, however, never thought himself in the way, he begged Ralph to introduce him to Mrs. Denmead and kindly patronised them all for the next hour, chatting in what he flattered himself was a very pleasant and genial manner about himself, the new costumes he had specially ordered from Abiram’s for his first appearance on the stage, the great success of the private theatricals at his father’s place in Southshire when he had acted with dear Lady Dunlop Tyars, and various anecdotes of high life which he felt sure would interest “these theatrical people.” At last to their relief he sauntered hack to his hotel. “I wonder whether he really acts well?” said Evereld musingly. “He seems to have a very high opinion of his own powers. I thought all the men’s costumes were provided by the management.” “So they are,” said Ralph with a smile, “But nothing worn by just a common actor would do for him, I suppose. He must have the very best of everything specially made for him by Abiram, and strike envy into the hearts of all the rest of us.” “We were so comfortable and friendly before he came,” said Ivy. “And now I am sure everything will be different. He’s an odious, conceited, empty-headed amateur, not in the least fit to be an actor. I wish he would go back to his private theatricals in the country with his Duchesses, and leave us in peace.” “Poor fellow! perhaps he really means to work hard and improve,” said Evereld. “You are always charitable,” said Ivy. “As for me I believe we shall never have a moment’s peace till Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes has gone.” Her prophesy was curiously fulfilled, for it was wonderful how much trouble and annoyance the wealthy amateur contrived to cause. Macneillie bore with him with considerable patience, being determined that in spite of his many peccadillos he should have a fair chance. He taught him as much as it is possible to teach a very conceited mortal, gave him many hints by which it is to be feared he profited little, and quietly ignored his rudeness, sometimes enjoying a good laugh over it afterwards when he described to Evereld what had taken place. Evereld was one of those people who are always receiving confidences. It was partly her very quietness which made people open their hearts to her. They knew she would never talk and betray them, and there was something in her face which inspired those who knew her to come and pour out all their troubles, certain of meeting sympathy and that sort of womanly wisdom which is better than any amount of mere cleverness. Even Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes himself was driven at last by the growing consciousness of his unpopularity to tell her of his difficulties. “I don’t know how it is, Mrs. Denmead,” he said one day, when they chanced to be alone for a few minutes, “I am not gaining ground here. These stage people are very hard to get on with.”