"Is it indeed," said Aldean, for her eyes were fastened upon him. "What a rum idea!" "Jim, Jim," reproved Mallow, smiling. "It is a very wonderful idea," said Miss Slarge, reproachfully. "Do you know, Mr. Mallow, I made a most remarkable discovery last week? The two-horned mitre of the Romish bishops is nothing but the mitre worn by Dagon, the fish-god of the Babylonians." "I do not quite understand, Miss Slarge." "It is not difficult," replied the lady. "Dagon was depicted as half man, half fish." "I know," cried Aldean; "he had a fish's tail, like a mermaid." "True enough," assented Mallow; "but that does not explain the mitre." Miss Slarge became excited. "The head of the fish, with open jaws, was worn on the god's head!" she cried, "and the scales and tail formed a cloak. The bishops of the papal church don't wear the tail, but they place the open-jawed head on their brows, and call it a mitre. Now do you see?" "Oh yes. It is truly wonderful, Miss Slarge." "Osiris also wore such a mitre, Mr. Mallow. How then can you doubt that the Pope of Rome is not the modern representative of the Philistine, of the Babylonian deity. Why, if----" By this time Miss Slarge was taking a breather on her hobby horse, and might be expected to gallop that tiresome animal for a considerable time; so, leaving Mallow to endure the martyrdom, Lord Aldean edged away from the pair by degrees. The cunning rascal had caught a glimpse of Miss Ostergaard out of the tail of his eye, and, preferring flirtation to instruction, managed to place himself by her side whilst she was filling a small basket with roses. All this apparently without her knowledge. The young lady from New Zealand was one of the most charming of young ladies; and Aldean went so far as to make no reservation in favour of any one. She had been sent to England to be educated, and, having gone to the same school as Olive, a close friendship had sprung up between them as rapidly as had grown Jonah's gourd. Happily the friendship was more enduring than the plant, and for three or four years these two had been like Helena and Hermia, two cherries on one stem. Miss Ostergaard, whose Christian, or rather Maori name, was Tui, loved Olive as her other self, and frequently came to stay at the Manor House. She was now twenty years of age, and so pretty that she won every heart left uncaptured by Olive. With dark hair, dark complexion, and two wonderful dark eyes like wells of liquid light, she made such havoc amongst young and susceptible males that she should have been shut up as a too delightful damsel dangerous to the youth of the community. Her last victim was the hapless Aldean. Having impaled him on a pin, she was watching him wriggle. Not that Jim objected to the process--indeed, he rather liked it--for if he wriggled on the pin no one else could, for the time being; and thus he secured all the sweet torment unto himself: a most gratifying monopoly.