"it is Patricia's undeclared impecunious lover. He is afraid that
she won't know his gift is a harp, and afraid that the other girls
will. He feared to send it, lest one of the sisters or h'orphan
nieces should get it; it is frightful to love one of six, and the
cards are always slipping off, and the wrong girl is always
receiving your love-token or your offer of marriage."

"And if it is an offer, and the wrong woman gets it, she always
accepts, somehow," said Mr. Beresford; "It's only the right one who
declines!" and here he certainly looked at me pointedly.

"He hoped to arrive before any one else," Francesca went on, "and
put the harp in a nice place, and lead Patricia up to it, and make
her wonder who sent it. Now poor dear (yes, his name is sure to be
Terence), he is too late, and I am sure he will leave it in the
hansom, he will be so embarrassed."

And so he did, but alas! the driver came back with it in an instant,
the butler ran down the long path of crimson carpet that covered the
sidewalk, the first footman assisted, the second footman pursued
Terence and caught him on the staircase, and he descended
reluctantly, only to receive the harp in his arms and send a tip to
the cabman, whom of course he was cursing in his heart.

"I can't think why he should give her a harp," mused Bertie
Godolphin. "Such a rum thing, a harp, isn't it? It's too heavy for
her to 'tote,' as you say in the States."

"Yes, we always say 'tote,' particularly in the North," I replied;
"but perhaps it is Patricia's favourite instrument. Perhaps Terence