artists had accustomed him to this form of address. "The season in London is hardly propitious just now. I am resting."

"When do you begin again?"

"After the new year. It is possible I may give some concerts in Paris."

"It might be advisable for you to leave England for a time," the lady said, drily, looking at Ruth.

"My aunt is thinking of your delicate appearance, Mr. Webster," interposed the girl, trying to parry the stroke. "This foggy climate does not suit you in her opinion. Is that not so, Aunt Inez?"

"Well, it is not quite what I meant, Ruth." And she turned to Neil. "Have you any relatives in England. Mr. Webster?" she asked.

The suddenness of the question took away the young man's breath. It was evident that her brother had not confided in Mrs. Marshall.

"I have no relatives in the world, madam," he said.

"You remind me of someone," she went on, fixing her black eyes on him somewhat fiercely. "Do you sing?"

"Not at all," he answered, wondering more than ever at the oddity of this second question. "I have no voice."

"Humph!" muttered the lady, and turned away. "I must be mistaken."

"You are certainly mistaken, madam, in crediting me with any relatives. I am an orphan, a waif, a stranger in the land----"

"And a great violinist," finished Ruth, glancing defiantly at her aunt. "That surely ought to cover all deficiencies, Mr. Webster."

"No doubt it does--to musical people," said the elder lady, coldly.

The young man felt nettled, and more puzzled than ever at her manner, and he was about to ask a leading question when Miss Jennie Brawn, accompanied by Mr. Heron, entered.

"Oh, here you are," cried Ruth, including both in one gay greeting. "You are late."

"The sacred mysteries of the toilet have taken up Miss Brawn's time," laughed Heron, looking mischievously at the homely face of the girl beside him.

"One must do honour to the season," replied Jennie. She was dumpy and sandy and wore a pince-nez on her turned-up nose. "How are you, Master?" For she 

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