hear the music."

Her collected, urbane self once more, she took her husband's arm,
and passed through the opening ranks of her friends, bowing to this
side and that, with apologetic banter and graceful words of
regret--still very pale, but changed in no other respect.

"A singular episode in an evening's entertainment," said Mr.
Dorrance, leading Mabel to her stand in the re-forming set. "I never
knew Clara to succumb before to any type of syncope or asphyxia. She
is a woman of remarkable nerve and courage. And, by the way, how
preposterous is the common use of the word 'nervous.' The ablest
lexicographers define it as 'strong, well-strung, full of nerve,'
whereas, in ordinary parlance, it has come to signify the very
opposite of these. When I speak of a nervous speaker or writer, for
example, what do I mean?"

"One who imbibes unwholesomely large quantities of strong green tea,
and sees hobgoblins peering at her through the window-panes!" said
Rosa, sarcastically artless, tripping by in season to overhear this
clause of his small-talk.

Mabel's imperturbable good-breeding prevented embarrassment or
resentment at the interruption. At heart, she was vexed that Rosa
should omit no opportunity of shooting privily and audaciously at
her practical admirer, but to betray her appreciation of the
impertinence would be to subject herself to imputations of
sensitiveness on his account.

"I saw the hobgoblin without the aid of green tea," she rejoined.