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And the first thing Macfarren saw, Mrs. Van Tromp's train was over her arm and she was capering about as furiously as Lady Marian.

Now, although Macfarren was suffering the tortures of the damned, in addition to which he momentarily expected the angry interference of the proprietor, and to have the misery of seeing Lady Marian thrust disgracefully out of the hotel, the spectacle of Mrs. Van Tromp as an elderly Bacchante was too much for him. He lay back in his chair and laughed until he thought he should have died. A cow trying to walk a tight rope would have been graceful compared to Mrs. Van Tromp's elephantine attempts—but when with a final hop, skip and a jump, she asked him what he thought of it, he lied desperately.

"Beautiful—beautiful!" he cried, "you'll make a sensation, sure—and Van Tromp will get a divorce," he added mentally.

Mrs. Van Tromp and Lady Marian, each exhausted by the exercise, sat down panting—and Macfarren drew a long breath of relief when the show was over.

Mrs. Van Tromp, after fanning herself for a moment turned to Lady Marian and asked: