[The Nephew, not being prepared to answer this difficult query, leads his relative gently up to a “Nocturne in Opal and Silver.”  The Uncle conveys his opinion of it by a loud and expressive snort.

First Prosaic Person (before No. 28).  Valparaiso, is it? (Hopefully.) Well, come, I ought to recognise this—­I’ve been there often enough. (Inspecting it closely.) Ha—­um!

Second P.P. (with languid interest).  Is it like?

First P.P. I could tell you better if he’d done it by daylight.  I can’t make out this in the front—­looks to me like the top of a house, or something.  Don’t remember that.

Second P.P. I think it’s meant for a jetty, landing-stage, or that sort of thing, and, when you look into it, there’s something that seems intended for people—­most extraordinary, isn’t it?

The Domesticated Matron (who is searching for a picture with a subject to it).  There, CAROLINE, it’s evidently a harbour, you see, and ships, and they’re letting off fireworks—­probably for a regatta, Does it tell you what it is in the Catalogue?

Caroline (after consulting it).  It only says, “A Nocturne in Blue and Gold”—­oh yes—­(reading)—­“a splash and splutter of brightness, on a black ground, to depict a display of fireworks.”

Her Mother (gratified at her own intelligence).  I thought it must be fireworks.  He seems quite fond of fireworks, doesn’t he?

First Facetious Philistine. Hullo, what have we got here? “Crepuscule, in Flesh-colour and Green.” Very like one, too, daresay—­when you know what it is.

Second F.P. As far as I can make it out, a Crepuscule’s either a Harmony inside out, or a Symphony upside down—­it don’t much matter.

A Lady (who is laboriously trying to catch the right spirit). “The Blue Wave at Biarritz.”  Now I do admire that.  And what I like even better than the Blue wave is this great Brown one breaking in the foreground—­so exactly like water, isn’t it, DICK?

Dick (not a Whistlerite).  Y—­yes—­just.  Only it’s a rock, you know.

The Lady. But if that’s the way he saw it, DICK!

Dick. Here’s a thing! “St. Mark’s, Venice.”  I’ll trouble you!  What’s he done with the flagstaffs and the bronze horses and the pigeons? I never saw the place look like that.

The Lady. Because it didn’t happen to be foggy while we were there, that’s all.

First Pros.  Person. Ah, there’s old CARLYLE, you see!  Dear me, what a very badly fitting coat—­see how it bulges over his chest!

Second P.P. Yes.  I daresay he buttoned the wrong button—­philosopher and all that sort o’ thing, y’know.