'Gad!' said Sir George, standing and looking round. 'And where is she,

Tommy?'</p>'That old name! What a pleasure it is to hear it!' cried the tutor,

affecting to touch his eyes with the corner of a dainty handkerchief; as

if the gratification he mentioned were too much for his feelings.

'But, seriously, Tommy, where is she?' Soane persisted, still looking

round with a grin.

'My dear Sir George! My honoured friend! But you would always have your

joke.'</p>'And, plainly, Tommy, is all this frippery yours?'

'Tut, tut!' Mr. Thomasson remonstrated. 'And no man with a finer taste.

I have heard Mr. Walpole say that with a little training no man would

excel Sir George Soane as a connoisseur. An exquisite eye! A nice

discrimination! A--'

'Now, Tommy, to how many people have you said that?' Sir George

retorted, dropping into a chair, and coolly staring about him. 'But,

there, have done, and tell me about yourself. Who is the last sprig of

nobility you have been training in the way it should grow?'

'The last pupil who honoured me,' the Reverend Frederick answered, 'as

you are so kind as to ask after my poor concerns, Sir George, was my

Lord E----'s son. We went to Paris, Marseilles, Genoa, Florence; visited

the mighty monuments of Rome, and came home by way of Venice, Milan, and

Turin. I treasure the copy of Tintoretto which you see there, and these

bronzes, as memorials of my lord's munificence. I brought them back

with me.'

'And what did my lord's son bring back?' Sir George asked, cruelly. 'A

Midianitish woman?'

'My honoured friend!' Mr. Thomasson remonstrated. 'But your wit was

always mordant--mordant! Too keen for us poor folk!'

'D'ye remember the inn at Cologne, Tommy?' Sir George continued,

mischievously reminiscent. 'And Lord Tony arriving with his charmer? And

you giving up your room to her? And the trick we played you at Calais,

where we passed the little French dancer on you for Madame la Marquise

de Personne?' Mr. Thomasson winced, and a tinge of colour rose in his fat pale face.

'Boys, boys!' he said, with an airy gesture. 'You had an uncommon fancy

even then, Sir George, though you were but a year from school! Ah, those

were charming days! Great days!'

'And nights!' said Sir George, lying back in his chair and looking at

the other with eyes half shut, and insolence half veiled. 'Do you

remember the faro bank at Florence, Tommy, and the three hundred livres

you lost to that old harridan, Lady Harrington? Pearls cast before swine

you styled them, I remember.'</p>'Lord, Sir George!'




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