of stopping at your sister's on the way. Where are you bound for?'

'There too,' answers his companion, who, save for his drooping fair
moustache would better deserve to be called a 'pretty maid.' 'Mabel has
a small party on, and I promised to drop in, we may as well go
together.'

Paul Ponsonby is decidedly handsome; tall, fair, of almost a feminine
complexion, and with blue eyes of a very sad expression. He is a great
favourite with the female sex and many a mother longs to have him for a
son-in-law, remembering that he has plenty of money, and only three
people between him and an earldom; but he has no intention of marrying,
there being 'a just cause and impediment' why he should not.

But by this time our friends have reached their destination, and ascend
the staircase to the strains of distant music.

'Mabel,' otherwise Mrs Seaton, is standing on the landing and greets
them both eagerly.

'So glad you've come,' says she, 'but I didn't expect _you_, Mr
Dalrymple, and now you're here you must make yourself useful, your
mission in life at the present moment, Paul,' she adds, turning to her
brother, 'is to go and amuse Philippa, poor child, I'm afraid she feels
rather out of it, but I haven't time to attend to her now. She's near
the window, the old Professor was talking to her a few minutes ago--'

'Very well,' says Paul, moving towards the well filled drawing-room; the
music has ceased and everyone is talking at once. He pauses for a second
in the doorway and glances round the room, bowing to two or three