`That's what she deserves,' Arthur doggedly replied: `but people are so prejudiced against capital--'

`Now you're beginning to talk nonsense!' Lady Muriel cried. `But you do like Music, don't you? You said so just now.'

`Do I like Music?' the Doctor repeated softy to himself. `My dear Lady Muriel, there is Music and Music. Your question is painfully vague. You might as well ask "Do you like People?"'

Lady Muriel bit her lip, frowned, and stamped with one tiny foot. As a dramatic representation of ill- temper, it was distinctly not a success. However, it took in one of her audience, and Bruno hastened to interpose, as peace-maker in a rising quarrel, with the remark `I likes Peoples!'

Arthur laid a loving hand on the little curly head. `What? All Peoples?' he enquired.

`Not all Peoples,' Bruno explained. `Only but Sylvie--and Lady Muriel--and him--' (pointing to the Earl) `and oo--and oo!'

`You shouldn't point at people,' said Sylvie. `It's very rude.'

`In Bruno's World,' I said, `there are only four People--worth mentioning!'

`In Bruno's World!' Lady Muriel repeated thoughtfully. `A bright and flowery world. Where the grass is always green, where the breezes always blow softly, and the rain-clouds never gather; where there are no wild beasts, and no deserts--'

`There must be deserts,' Arthur decisively remarked. `At least if it was my ideal world.'

`But what possible use is there in a desert?' said Lady Muriel. `Surely you would have no wilderness in your ideal world?'

Arthur smiled. `But indeed I would!' he said. `A wilderness would be more necessary than a railway; and far more conducive to general happiness than church-bells!'

`But what would you use it for?'

`To practise music in,' he replied. `All the young ladies, that have no ear for music, but insist on learning it, should be conveyed, every morning, two or three miles into the wilderness. There each would find a comfortable room provided for her, and also a cheap second-hand piano-forte, on which she might play for hours, without adding one needless pang to the sum of human misery!'

Lady Muriel glanced round in alarm, lest these barbarous sentiments should be overheard. But the fair musician was at a safe distance. `At any rate you must allow that she's a sweet girl?' she resumed.

`Oh, certainly. As sweet as eau sucrée, if you choose--and nearly as interesting!'

`You are incorrigible!' said Lady Muriel, and turned to me. `I hope you found Mrs. Mills an interesting companion?'

`Oh, that's her name, is it?' I said. `I fancied there was more of it.'

`So there is: and it will be "at your proper peril" (whatever that may mean) if you ever presume to address her as "Mrs. Mills". She is "Mrs. Ernest--Atkinson--Mills"!'

`She is one of those would-be grandees,' said Arthur, `who think that, by tacking on to their surname all their spare Christian-names, with hyphens between, they can give it an aristocratic flavour. As if it wasn't trouble enough to remember one surname!'