for which she did internal penance so bitter that, for her to be able to go on at all, the shrug-philosophy was positively necessary; Mr. Pericles himself saw the sketch, and remarked critically, “It is zat I have more hair:”  following which, he tapped the signal for an overture to commence, and at the first stroke took a run, with his elbows clapping exactly as the shrewd hand of Edward had drawn him.

“See him—­zat fellow,” Mr. Pericles said to Laura Tinley, pointing to the leader.  “See him pose a maestro! zat leads zis tintamarre.  He is a hum-a-bug!”

Laura did the vocal caricaturing, when she had gathered plenty of matter of this kind.  Altogether, as host, Mr. Pericles accomplished his duty in furnishing amusement.

Late in the afternoon, Sir Twickenham Pryme and Wilfrid arrived in company.  The baronet went straight to Cornelia.  Wilfrid beckoned to Adela, from whom he heard of his father’s illness at the hotel in town, and the conditions imposed on them.  He nodded, said lightly, “Where’s Emilia?” and nodded again to the answer, “With papa,” and then stopped as he was walking off to one of the groups.  “After all, it won’t do for us to listen to the whims of an invalid.  I’m going back.  You needn’t say you’ve seen me.”

“We have the doctor’s most imperative injunction, dearest,” pleaded Adela, deceived for a moment.  “Papa’s illness is mental chiefly.  He is able to rise and will be here very soon, if he is not in any way crossed.  For heaven’s sake, command yourself as we have done—­painfully indeed!  Besides, you have been seen.”

“Has she—?” Wilfrid began; and toned an additional carelessness.  “She writes, of course?”

“No, not once; and we are angry with her.  It looks like ingratitude, or stupidity.  She can write.”

“People might say that we are not behaving well,” returned Wilfrid, repeating that he must go to town.  But now Edward Burley camp running with a message from the aristocratic heights, and thither Wilfrid walked captive—­saying in Adela’s ear, “Don’t be angry with her.”

Adela thought, very justly, “I shall, if you’ve been making a fool of her, naughty boy!”

Wilfrid saluted the ladies, and made his bow of introduction to Georgiana Ford, at whom he looked twice, to confirm an impression that she was the perfect contrast to Emilia; and for this reason he chose not to look at her again.  Lady Charlotte dropped him a quick recognition.

If Brookfield could have thrown the burden from its mind, the day was one to feel a pride in.  Three Circles were present, and Brookfield denominated two that it had passed through, and patronized all—­from Lady Gosstre (aristocracy) to the Tinley set (lucre), and from these to the representative Sumner girls (cultivated poverty).  There were also intellectual, scientific, and Art circles to deal with; music, pleasant to hear, albeit condemned by Mr. Pericles; agreeable chatter, courtly flirtation and homage, and no dread of the defection of the letter H from their family.