"The leaves of Memory seemed to
Make a mournful rustling."

--that's all it _says_ about it.

_The Niece_ (_finding a certain vagueness in this as a description_).
Oh! But there are _no_ leaves--unless it means the leaves in the book
she's reading. Still I think it _must_ be ELLEN TERRY; don't you?

_The C.A._ (_cautiously_.) Well, my dear, I always think it's as
well not to be too positive about a portrait till you know who it
was painted from.

[_The_ Matter-of-Fact Persons _have arrived at a Pastel
representing several green and yellow ladies seated undraped
around a fountain, with fiddles suspended to the branches
above._

_Second M.-of-F.P._ "_Marigolds_," that's called. I don't _see_ any
though. [_With a sense of being imposed upon._

_First M.-of-F.P._ I think _I_ do--yes, those orange spots in the
green. They're meant for Marigolds, but there aren't very many of
them, are there? And why should they all be sitting on the grass
like that? Enough to give them their deaths of cold!

_Second M.-of-F.P._ I expect they've been bathing.

_First M.-of-F.P._ They couldn't _all_ bathe in that fountain, and
then what do you make of their bringing out their violins?