Part 19 (1/2)

_Tal._ ”All good violin players do like me; they prelude, not play tunes.”

_Ips._ ”Then Heaven be thanked for our blind fiddlers. You like syllables of sound in unmeaning rotation, and you despise its words, its purposes, its narrative feats; carry out your principle, it will show you where you are. Buy a dirty palette for a picture, and dream the alphabet is a poem.”

_Lady Bar., to herself._ ”Is this my cousin Richard?”

_Hither._ ”Mind, Ipsden, you are a man of property, and there are such things as commissions _de lunatico.”_

_Lady Bar._ ”His defense will be that his friends p.r.o.nounced him insane.”

_Ips._ ”No; I shall subpoena Talbot's fiddle, cross-examination will get nothing out of that but, do, re, mi, fa.”

_Lady Bar._ ”Yes, it will; fa, mi, re, do.”

_Tal._ ”Violin, if you please.”

_Lady Bar._ ”Ask Fiddle's pardon, directly.”

_Sound of fiddles is heard in the distance._

_Tal._ ”How lucky for you, there are fiddles and tunes, and the natives you are said to favor, why not join them?”

_Ips. (shaking his head solemnly)._ ”I dread to encounter another prelude.”

_Hither._ ”Come, I know you would like it; it is a wedding-party--two sea monsters have been united. The sailors and fishermen are all blue cloth and wash-leather gloves.”

_Miss V._ ”He! he!”

_Tal._ ”The fishwives unite the colors of the rainbow--”

_Lady Bar._ ”(And we all know how hideous they are)--to vulgar, blooming cheeks, staring white teeth, and sky-blue eyes.”

_Mrs. V._ ”How satirical you are, especially you, Lady Barbara.”

Here Lord Ipsden, after a word to Lady Barbara, the answer to which did not appear to be favorable, rose, gave a little yawn, looked steadily at his companions without seeing them, and departed without seeming aware that he was leaving anybody behind him.

_Hither._ ”Let us go somewhere where we can quiz the natives without being too near them.”

_Lady Bar._ ”I am tired of this unbroken solitude, I must go and think to the sea,” added she, in a mock soliloquy; and out she glided with the same unconscious air as his lords.h.i.+p had worn.

The others moved off slowly together.

”Mamma,” said Miss Vere, ”I can't understand half Barbara Sinclair says.”

”It is not necessary, my love,” replied mamma; ”she is rather eccentric, and I fear she is spoiling Lord Ipsden.”

”Poor Lord Ipsden,” murmured the lovely Vere, ”he used to be so nice, and do like everybody else. Mamma, I shall bring some work the next time.”

”Do, my love.”

PICNIC NO. 2.