I verily believe the spiders are all asleep in the ivy, and the mice behind the wainscot, and the horses in the stable.' 'What could happen ?' asked Lesbia, with a gentle elevation of pencilled brows.

'Are not these lovely lines-- "And coverlids gold-tinted like the peach, Or ripe October's faded marigolds, Fell sleek about him in a thousand folds." Faded marigolds! Is not that intensely sweet ?' 'Very well for your sleepy Keats, but I don't suppose you would have noticed the passage if marigolds were not in fashion,' said Mary, with a touch of scorn.

'What could happen?
Why a hundred things--an earthquake, flood, or fire.

What could happen, do you say, Lesbia?
Why Maulevrier might come home unexpectedly, and charm us out of this death-in-life.' 'He would occasion a good deal of unpleasantness if he did,' answered Lesbia, coldly.

'You know how angry he has made grandmother.' 'Because he keeps race-horses which have an unlucky knack of losing,' said Mary, dubiously.