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"Bah! you black parrot!" muttered Maurice scornfully and turned upon his heel. As he vanished down the walk Dido clapped her hands together with great satisfaction and began to sing in low tones. Her song was barbaric in words and strange beyond all telling in the music. It rose and fell, and moaned and drawled, in a curiously painful manner. In the drawing-room Mrs. Dallas had risen to her feet at the first deep contralto note, and now stood rocking herself to and fro with an expression of alarm on her face. Isabella was terrified in her turn by Dido's song and her mother's strange conduct, though by this time she should have been used to these eccentricities. "Well!" repeated Jen, in an irritated tone, "can you not rouse that dull brain of yours to some understanding? To avert the discovery, and to prevent the analysis of the poison in the body. Dido, under the direction of Dr. Etwald, committed the third crime." "I came down here to escape Dido," explained Isabella, slipping her hand within his. "You don't like her to be with us.".

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"Isn't she the limit?" said Patricia in disdain. "She oughtn't to eat frivolous things like éclairs. I wonder at her lack of judgment." "Ho! ho!" murmured Maurice, rather taken back. "So the art of devil-raising is not a lost one after all. Dido can still call spirits from the vasty deep." "That will I!" cried Patricia, heartily. "We'll ship Judy to Mrs. Shelly on an afternoon train, and make Miss Jinny feel it's her duty to chaperone us among the wild and woolly artists. Oh, it will be contemptibly easy! But," and her face fell in dismay, "what are we to wear? We haven't any party clothes, you know." "One moment, major. I wish we three to understand one another"--here the doctor hesitated, then went on in an impressive voice--"about Miss Dallas!".