"Better, Mrs. Tandle? Yes, I thought that syrup would do you good--it soothes the coats of the stomach. Miss Pols, you do look yellow. Let me recommend a glass of hot water in the morning. Mr. Spons, if you lie down on the sofa I'm sure it will do you good. Oh, are you going to play, Miss Valpy? Something quiet, please. Music is such a good digestive." Tommy, however, was not a young lady who could play quiet tunes, her performance on the piano being of the muscular order. She therefore favoured the company with a noisy piece of the most advanced school, which had no melody, although full of contrapuntal devices. Having shaken every one's nerves with this trying performance, she glided off into a series of popular waltzes, mostly of the scrappy order, in which she sandwiched hymn tunes between music-hall melodies. The wrecks liked this style of thing, as they could all beat time with their feet, and when it was finished said waltzes were charming, but not so fine as "Batch's" passion music, of which they knew nothing, not even how to pronounce his name correctly. "Bach!" echoed Tommy contemptuously. "Oh, he's an old fossil! Offenbach's more in my line. Oui! You bet! Sapristi! Vive la bagatelle!" The company did not understand French, so suffered this observation to pass in discreet silence, but Kaituna laughed. She was sitting in a corner by herself, with a look of impatience on her face, for she was expecting a letter and the post was late. "Kaituna," cried Tommy, attracted by the laugh, "why are you sitting in the corner like a graven image? Come out and sing." "No, I don't want to. I'm waiting for my letter." "Hasn't it arrived yet?" said Miss Valpy, skipping across the room. "I'd give it to that Dombrain thing if I were you. Dombrain! What a name! Who is he?" "My father's solicitor." "Oh, in the law and the profits? I don't mean biblically, but commercially. But, I say, don't keep thinking of your letter, or it won't come. The watched postman never boils." "What nonsense you talk!" "I can't help it, dear. My brains leave me when there are no male things in the room." "There's Mr. Spons." "Oh, I don't bother about him. He's not a man; he's a medicine bottle. Hark! I hear footmarks approaching on horseback. It is the man. Now, will you take Mr. Clendon and I Mr. Maxwell, or will you take Mr. Maxwell and I Mr. Clendon?" "I don't want either," said Kaituna hastily. "Now that's ungrateful, especially when Mr. Maxwell is such a dear. 'Oh, that heaven would send me such a man!'--Shakespeare, Kaituna, so don't look indignant. You can take Archie, and I'll satisfy myself with Toby." "You shouldn't call men by their Christian names, Thomasina." "Don't say that; it sounds like 'ma. I only call them by their Christian names to you. I wouldn't do it to their faces." "I hope not." "How proper you are! Behold the male sex are at the door! I can smell the tobacco on their clothes."