The older men did not oblige Ladywell a second time with any attempt at appreciation; but a weird silence ensued, during which the smile upon Ladywell’s face became frozen to painful permanence.

‘Meaning by E., you know, the “E” of the poems—­heh-heh!’ he added.

‘It was a very humorous incident certainly,’ said his friend Neigh, at which there was a laugh—­not from anything connected with what he said, but simply because it was the right thing to laugh when Neigh meant you to do so.

’Now don’t, Neigh—­you are too hard upon me.  But, seriously, two or three fellows were there when I said it, and they all began laughing—­but, then, the Colonel said it in such a queer way, you know.  But you were asking me about her?  Well, the fact is, between ourselves, I do know that she is a lady; and I don’t mind telling a word—­’

’But we would not for the world be the means of making you betray her confidence—­would we, Jones?’

‘No, indeed; we would not.’

’No, no; it is not that at all—­this is really too bad!—­you must listen just for a moment—­’

‘Ladywell, don’t betray anybody on our account.’

’Whoever the illustrious young lady may be she has seen a great deal of the world,’ said Mr. Doncastle blandly, ’and puts her experience of the comedy of its emotions, and of its method of showing them, in a very vivid light.’

’I heard a man say that the novelty with which the ideas are presented is more noticeable than the originality of the ideas themselves,’ observed Neigh.  ’The woman has made a great talk about herself; and I am quite weary of people asking of her condition, place of abode, has she a father, has she a mother, or dearer one yet than all other.’

’I would have burlesque quotation put down by Act of Parliament, and all who dabble in it placed with him who can cite Scripture for his purposes,’ said Ladywell, in retaliation.

After a pause Neigh remarked half-privately to their host, who was his uncle:  ’Your butler Chickerel is a very intelligent man, as I have heard.’

‘Yes, he does very well,’ said Mr. Doncastle.

‘But is he not a—­very extraordinary man?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ said Doncastle, looking up surprised.  ’Why do you think that, Alfred?’

’Well, perhaps it was not a matter to mention.  He reads a great deal, I dare say?’

‘I don’t think so.’

’I noticed how wonderfully his face kindled when we began talking about the poems during dinner.  Perhaps he is a poet himself in disguise.  Did you observe it?’

’No.  To the best of my belief he is a very trustworthy and honourable man.  He has been with us—­let me see, how long?—­five months, I think, and he was fifteen years in his last place.  It certainly is a new side to his character if he publicly showed any interest in the conversation, whatever he might have felt.’