Lady Julia turned pale.

"I daresay," answered Mrs. Merillia, bravely. "But I am not acquainted with the neighbourhood you mention."

"You know the Mouse?"

At this abrupt return to the subject of mice Lady Julia became really terrified.

"Be frank with me, Mr. Vivian," she whispered to the Prophet, under cover of boiled salmon; "is he a ratcatcher?"

"Good Heavens, no!" whispered back the Prophet. "He's--he's quite the contrary."

"But--"

"What mouse?" said Mrs. Merillia, endeavouring to seem pleasantly at ease, though she, too, was beginning to feel a certain amount of alarm at these strange beings' persistent discussion of the inhabitants of the wainscot. "Do you allude to any special mouse?"

"I do, ma'am. I allude to the Mouse that has helped to make Madame and self what we are."

Sir Tiglath began to roll about in his chair preparatory to some deliverance, and Mrs. Merillia, casting a somewhat agitated glance at her grandson, answered,--

"Really. I did not know that anything so small could have so much influence."

"It may be small, ma'am," said Mr. Sagittarius. "But to a sensitive nature it often seems gigantic."

"You mean at night, I suppose? Does it disturb you very much?"

"We hear it, ma'am, but it lulls us to rest."

"Indeed. That is very fortunate. I fear it might keep me awake."

"So we thought at first. But now we should miss it. Should we not, Sophronia?"

"Doubtless," replied Madame, arranging a napkin carefully over her fichu, and dealing rigorously with some mayonnaise sauce. "It has been our perpetual companion for many years, _mus amicus humano generi_."

Sir Tiglath swelled, and Mrs. Merillia responded,--

"I see, a pet. Is it white?"

"No, ma'am," returned Mr. Sagittarius, "it is a rich, chocolate brown except on wet days. Then it takes on the hue of a lead pencil."

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Merillia, trying n.o.bly to remain social. "How very curious!"

"We worship it in summer," continued Mr. Sagittarius. "In the sultry season it soothes and calms us."

"Then it is quite tame?"

"At that time of year, but in winter nights it is sometimes almost wild."

"Ah, I daresay. They often are, I know."

"The architects and their wives love it as we do."

"Do they? How very fortunate!"

"We should hate to miss it even for a moment."

"Oh, Mr. Vivian!" whispered Lady Julia, "this is dreadful. I'm almost sure he's brought it with him."

"No, no. It's not alive."

"A dead mouse!"

"It's a river."

"A river! But he said it was a mouse."

"It's both. Mr. Sagittarius," added the Prophet, in a loud and desperate tone of voice, "you'll find this champagne quite dry. You needn't be afraid of it."

"Did you get it from by the rabbit shop, sir?" asked Mr. Sagittarius, lifting his gla.s.s. "I ordered a dozen in, only the day before yesterday."

Lady Julia began to tremble.

"I see," she whispered to the Prophet. "His mania is about animals."

Meanwhile the Prophet had made a warning face at Mr. Sagittarius, who suddenly remembered his danger and subsided, glancing uneasily at Sir Tiglath, whose intention of addressing him had been momentarily interfered with by a sweetbread masked in a puree of spinach.

Madame Sagittarius, a.s.sisted by food and dry champagne, was now--as the Prophet perceived with horror--beginning to feel quite at her ease.

She protruded her elbows, sat more extensively in her chair, rolled her prominent eyes about the room as one accustomed to her state, and said, with condescension, to Lady Julia,--

"Is your ladyship to make one of the party at the Zoological Gardens to-night?"

Lady Julia, who now began to suppose that Mr. Sagittarius's crazy pa.s.sion for animals was shared by his wife, gasped and answered,--

"Are you going to the Zoological Gardens?"

"Yes, to an a.s.sembly. It should be very pleasant. Do you make one?"

"I regret that I am not invited," said Lady Julia, rather stiffly.

Madame bridled, under the impression that she was scoring off a member of the aristocracy.

"Indeed," she remarked, with a click. "Yet I presume that your ladyship is not insensible to the charms of rout and collation?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Lady Julia, beginning to look like an image made of cast iron.

"I imagine that the social whirl finds in your ladyship a willing acolyte?"

"Oh, no. I go out very little."

"Indeed," said Madame, with some contempt. "Then you do not frequent the Palace?"