'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.'

'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?'