“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.

“I feel more and more convinced,” said Adela, meeting Arabella, “that we can have really no cause for alarm; otherwise papa would not have been cruel to his children.”  Arabella kindly reserved her opinion.  “So let us try and be happy,” continued Adela, determining to be encouraged by silence.  With that she went on tiptoe gracefully and blew a kiss to her sister’s lips.  Running to Captain Gambier, she said, “Do you really enjoy this?”