‘Do you dare to speak of Miss Hazel as an ordinary person?’

’Why, no sir!  By no means!  Very h’extraordinary, I thought I said, sir—­or h’indicated,’ replied Gotham, going back to his leisurely motions about the table.

’Have the goodness to remember that it is proper her flowers should be extraordinary.’

‘O, you are clearing the table,’ Hazel said, flitting in; ‘just what I wanted—­tea early.’

’Tea never h’is late, Miss ‘Azel!’ said Gotham in an aggrieved voice.

‘I didn’t know but it might be to-night,’ said the girl provokingly.  ’But dear Mr. Falkirk, do you really like to have your books disturbed so often, just for me?’

‘My dear,’ said Mr. Falkirk rather lazily, brushing one hand over his forehead, ‘you have done that for my life generally.’

’My dear Mr. Falkirk!—­evidently I have just come in time to receive a shot meant for somebody else.  I wonder you allow yourself to fire at random, sir, in that way.’

‘Who has been sending you flowers, Miss Hazel?’ her guardian asked, without change of tone.

She laughed.

’Shall I leave you the cards, sir—­just to pass away the time while I am gone?’

‘I’ll take them now, Miss Hazel, if you please.’  Mr. Falkirk stretched out his hand.

’They are not so precious as to be carried in my pocket, sir.  Do you want them before tea?’

‘If you please, Miss Hazel!’

’I don’t please a bit, sir.  I am in a great hurry to go to my dressing.  And you know, Mr. Falkirk, you seldom try for “the soul of wit” on such occasions.’

‘Does that mean, you refuse me the sight of them?’

‘No, sir!—­“By no means!”—­to quote Gotham,’ said Wych Hazel, jumping up.  She came back and laid the cards in his hand—­quite a packet of them.  Mr. Falkirk found names that he knew and names that he did not.  He turned them over, speaking some of the names in an inexpressive sotto voce; and then began doubling them up, one after the other, and letting them fall on the floor beside him.

’Have you got a copy of the Arabian Nights in your library, my dear?’ he asked.  ’I wish you would send for it.  I am not posted.  I have an indistinct impression of a fight between two rival powers, in which, after a variety of transformations, the one of them in the shape of a kernel of corn was swallowed by the other in some appropriate shape.  I should like to study the tactics, watch my opportunity, and make an end of these gentry.’  Mr. Falkirk dropped the last card as he spoke.

‘Ha! ha!’ laughed Wych Hazel in her soft notes.  ’You will feel better, sir, when you have had a cup of tea.’  And she began preparing it at once.  Whether or not Mr. Falkirk felt better he did not say.