In a famous poem of the late Lord Tennyson there is related a dramatic incident of a lady whose disinclination to cry, when such emotion would have been only natural, was overcome by the presentation to her of her child.  A somewhat similar effect was produced upon our Prophet by the constable’s presentation to him of his honoured grandmother.  The sight of her reverent head, surmounted by the bonnet which she had assumed in readiness to flee from the house which she could no longer regard as a home—­the touch of her delicate hand—­the flutter of her so hallowed Indian shawl—­these things broke down the strange calm of her devoted grandson.  Like summer tempest came his emotion, and, when the policeman presently returned with Malkiel the Second and Madame nabbed by his right and left hands, and followed by Lady Enid and the weeping Mrs. Fancy, he was confronted by a most pathetic tableau.  The Prophet and Mrs. Merillia were weeping in each other’s arm’s while Sir Tiglath and Gustavus—­just returned to consciousness—­were engaged in examining the proceeding with puppy dog’s eyes.

Over the explanations that ensued a veil may be partially drawn.  One lifted corner, however, allows us to note that Sir Tiglath Butt, having come upon Madame hidden behind a bin of old port in the Prophet’s cellar, had been seized by a desire not to alarm a lady so profound that it prompted him to hurry to the butler’s pantry, and to seek concealment in the very cupboard which already contained Malkiel the Second.  On perceiving that gentleman perched upon the loving-cup, and protected by candlesticks, sugar basins, teapots and other weapons, the astronomer’s anxiety to become a murderer apparently forsook him.  At any rate, he passed through the plate-glass of the window rather hastily into the area, where, as we know, he received the solicitous attentions of the policeman who had served as an intermediary between the Lord Chancellor’s second cook—­whose supper of dressed crab had caused so much confusion—­and the supposed Mr. Ferdinand.  Malkiel the Second, finding himself discovered, took to the open just as Madame fled forth from the cellar, to be overtaken by the very natural misconception that she was about to become the victim of a husband whose jealousy had at length caused him to assume his toga virilibus.

Perhaps it was Sir Tiglath’s throwing off of the said garment which caused Lady Enid to throw him over.  At any rate, she eventually married Mr. Robert Green and made him a very sensible wife.

The Malkiels returned to the Mouse, where they still live, and still carry on a certain amount of intercourse with architects and their wives.  From time to time, however, they attend the receptions at Zoological House, and a rumour recently ran through the circles of the silly to the effect that they had been looking at a house not far from the Earls Court Station, with a view—­it is surmised—­of removing to more central districts.