First Villa Resident (appreciatively). Such a death-like expression, isn't it?

Second Ditto, Ditto. Yes, indeed! And how beautifully her halo's done!

Third Ditto, Ditto. Will those two men on the bank be the executioners, should you think?

Fourth Ditto, Ditto (doubtfully). It says in the Catalogue that they're two Christians.

An Intelligent Child. Then why don't they jump in and pull her out, Mother? [The Child is reproved.

A Languid Young Lady. Is that intended for Opheliah?

[The rest regard her with shocked disapproval, mingled with pity, before passing on.

First Matter-of-Fact Person. They're just come back from the funeral, I expect.

Second Ditto, Ditto. I shouldn't wonder. (Feels bound to show that she too can be observant.) Yes, they're all in mourning—even the servant. Do you see the black ribbon in her cap? I do like that.

An Irrelevant Person. It's just a little melancholy, though, don't you think?—which reminds me—how much did you say that jet trimming was a yard—nine pence three-farthings?

Her Friend. Nine pence halfpenny at the shop in St. Paul's Churchyard. The child has her frock open at the top behind, you see—evidently a poor family!

The I.P. Yes, and the workbasket with the reels of cotton and all. (Looking suddenly down.) Don't you call this a handsome carpet?

A Frivolous Frenchman (fresh from 'The Casual Ward' and 'The Martyr' to his companion). Tenez, mon cher, encore des choses gaies!

[He passes on with a shrug.]

A Good Young Man with a train of three Maiden Aunts in tow (halting them before a picture of SIR J. NOEL PATON's). Now you ought to look at this one.

[They inspect it with docility. It represents a Knight in armour riding through a forest and surrounded by seductive Wood-nymphs.

First Maiden Aunt. Is that a guitar one of those girls is playing, or what?

Second Ditto, Ditto. A mandolin more likely; it looks like mother-o'-pearl—is it supposed to be King ARTHUR, and are they fairies or angels, ROBERT?

The G.Y.M. (a little at sea himself). "Oskold and the Ellé-maids," the title is.

Third Aunt. Scolding the Elements! Who's scolding them, ROBERT?

Robert (in her ear). "Oskold and the Ellé-maids!" it's a Scandinavian legend, Aunt TABITHA,

Aunt Tabitha (severely). Then it's a pity they can't find better subjects to paint, in my opinion! (They move on to Mr. PETTIE's "Musician.") Dear me, that young man looks dreadfully poorly, to be sure!

Robert (loudly). He's not poorly, Aunt; he's a Musician—he's supposed to be (quoting from Catalogue) "thinking out a composition, imagining an orchestral effect, with the occasional help of an organ."

First Aunt. I see the organ plain enough—but where's the orchestral effect?

Robert. Well, you wouldn't see that, you know, he only imagines it.

Second Aunt. Oh, yes, I see. Subject to delusions, poor man! I thought he looked as if he wanted someone to look after him.

First Loyal Old Lady (reading from Catalogue). "No. 35. 'Lent by Her Majesty the QUEEN.'"

Second Ditto, Ditto. Lent by HER MAJESTY, my dear! Oh, I don't want to miss that—which is it—where?

[She prepares herself to regard it with a special and reverent interest.

Matter-of-Fact Person (to her Irrelevant Friend). Here's a Millais, you see. Ophelia drowning herself.

The Irrelevant Friend (who doesn't approve of suicide). Yes, dear, very peculiar—but I don't quite like it, I must say. Do you remember whether I told SARAH to put out the fiddle-pattern forks and the best cruetstand before I came away? Dear Mr. HOMERTON is coming in to supper to-night, and I want everything to be nice for him.

The Good Young Man. There's Ophelia again, you see. (Searches for an appropriate remark.) She—ah—evidently understood the art of natation.

First Aunt. She looks almost too comfortable in the water, I think. Her mouth's open, as if she was singing.

Second Aunt (extenuatingly). Yes—but those wild roses are very naturally done—and so are her teeth.

A Discriminating Person. I like it all but the figure.

A Well-informed Person. There's the "Dream of Dante," d'ye see? No mistaking the figure of DANTE. Here he is, down below, having his dream—that's the dream in that cloud—and up above you get the dream done life-size—queer sort of idea, isn't it?

A Ponderous Person (finding himself in front of "The Vale of Rest"). Ha!—what are those two Nuns up to?

His Companion. Digging their own graves, I think.

The Pond. P. (with a supreme mental effort). Oh, Cremation, eh?

[Goes out, conceiving that he has sacrificed at the shrine of Art sufficiently for one afternoon.

Young Discount (to Young TURNOVER—before "Claudio and Isabella"). Something out of SHAKSPEARE here, you see.

Young Turnover. Yairss. (Giving Claudio a perfunctory attention.) Wants his hair raking, don't he? Not much in my line, this sort of subject.

Young Disc. Nor yet mine—takes too much time making it out, y'know. This ain't bad—"Venetian Washerwomen"—is that the way they get up linen over there?

Young Turn. (who has "done" Italy) Pretty much. (By way of excuse for them.) They're very al fresco out in those parts, y' know. Here's a Market-place in Italy, next to it. Yes, that's just like they are. They bring out all those old umbrellas and stalls and baskets twice a-week, and clear 'em all off again next day, so that you'd hardly know they'd been there!

Young Disc. (intelligently). I see. After Yarmouth style.

Young Turn. Well, something that way—only rather different style, y' know.

An Appreciative Lady. Ah! yes, it is wonderfully painted! Isn't it lovely the way that figured silk is done? You can hardly tell it isn't real, and the plush coat he's wearing; such an exquisite shade of violet, and the ivy-leaves, and the nasturtiums and the old red brick; yes, it's very beautiful—and yet, do you know, (meditatively) I almost