_In the Belfry._

_Podb._ (_arriving breathless, and finding CULCHARD craning eagerly
forward_). Oh, so _you_ came up too? Well, can you _see_ her?

_Culch._ Ssh! She's just turned the corner! (_Vexed._) She's with Miss
TROTTER!... They're sitting down on the grass below!

_Podb._ Together? That's a nuisance! Now we shall have to wait till
they separate--sure to squabble, sooner or later.

_Miss T.'s Voice_ (_which is perfectly audible above_). I guess we'll
give RUSKIN a rest now, HYPATIA. I'm dying for a talk. I'm just as
enchanted as I can be to hear you've dismissed Mr. PODBURY. And I
expect you can guess _why_.

_Podb._ (_in a whisper_). I say, CULCHARD, they're going to talk about
us. Ought we to listen, eh? Better let them know we're here?

_Culch._ I really don't see any necessity--however--(_Whistles
feebly._) Feedy-feedy-feedle!

[Illustration: "Hypatia, by Jove!"]

_Podb._ What is the use of fustling like that? (_Yödels._) Lul-li-ety!

_Miss P.'s V._ Well, my dear MAUD, I confess that I--

_Culch._ It's quite impossible to make them hear down there, and it's
no fault of ours if their voices reach us occasionally. And it