understand what Paris saw in her.

TED MORRIS.

Oh, she's a dear little soul; but, seriously now, Jack, as an artist, is she beautiful?

JACK MEDBURY.

Oh, you're a fool, Ted. I don't mean to be insulting. (Laughs.) But fancy your sitting opposite Nelly every day of your life, and then asking somebody else "If she's beautiful!"

TED MORRIS.

Um! I must have another look at her.

JACK MEDBURY.

Yes, I should—with your eyes open on this occasion. Look at her closely, Ted. You'll see one of the fairest, noblest little women God ever made—who'd just lay down her life for you—who keeps a bonny face and a brave word for you—and a sore heart for herself sometimes. Look at her a little oftener, old man—let her see that you understand and love her for it and—you don't mind my coming the family friend over you, do you, old fellow?

TED MORRIS.

Of course not, Jack. But you've worried me about Nelly.

JACK MEDBURY.

How?

TED MORRIS.

Why, it never occurred to me before, but here——

Beautiful as you say she is, and just growing up into womanhood, I'll just tell you what will be happening before long.

JACK MEDBURY.

What?

TED MORRIS.

Why, we shall have some young idiot falling in love with her.

JACK MEDBURY.

Yes; it's not altogether impossible.

TED MORRIS.

It's not at all improbable—and what the deuce shall I do?

JACK MEDBURY.

Oh, you come and tell me. I'll show you what to do.

TED MORRIS.

It's no chaffing matter, Jack. It's a serious responsibility upon a fellow when you come to think of it. I'm beginning to understand the feelings of a "stern parent."

JACK MEDBURY.

What sort of a fellow do you fancy for a brother-in-law?

TED MORRIS.

(Laughs.) What she fancies will be more to the point, I expect. You know she's a bit headstrong; I'll tell you who it will be.

JACK MEDBURY.

(Quickly.) Who?

TED MORRIS.

Why some poor devil without a penny to bless himself with. You bet your bottom dollar on that.

JACK MEDBURY.

And what do you intend saying to this impecunious suitor when he does turn up?

TED MORRIS.

I must think it over seriously, and be prepared for him.

JACK MEDBURY.

Better think it over now.

TED MORRIS.

Why?

JACK MEDBURY.

He may be down on you sooner than you expect. The truth is there's a very impecunious young man very much in love with your sister already, and I—I rather fancy she—she doesn't mind it.

TED MORRIS.

Oh! impossible.

JACK MEDBURY.

I don't quite see why.

TED MORRIS.

Why, she hasn't seen anybody for the last eighteen months. We never go out, and there hasn't been a soul here—except yourself.

JACK MEDBURY.

And which do you consider as "impossible"—my falling in love with her, or her not objecting to it?

TED MORRIS.

You? You and Nelly in love with each other? How long has it all been going on?

JACK MEDBURY.

Well, as far as I am concerned I don't think I lost much time since you first brought me here last Christmas twelve-month.

TED MORRIS.

Funny I've never noticed anything.

JACK MEDBURY.

Well, I don't really think it's been our fault, old man—'pon my soul, I don't.

TED MORRIS.

Are you engaged?

JACK MEDBURY.

No, no, we shouldn't have done that without saying anything to you, but I think we understand one another.

TED MORRIS.

Hum! I don't seem much good at this duenna business.

JACK MEDBURY.

It's not your strong point, Ted. (Both men laugh.) Well, what do you think, old fellow? I ought to have spoken to you before, of course. But somehow it seemed odd talking to another fellow about it. You know all about me. We are both a couple of poor devils. You're fighting the world with bones and bottles; I'm tackling it with a paint-brush. If I get licked, of course I shall clear out, but I shall daub a good deal better if I fancy I see Nelly waiting for me behind the canvas, and I may win. Come, you know I'll try to be good to her. What do you say?

TED MORRIS.

That it's the grandest bit of news I've heard, Jack, for many a long month.

JACK MEDBURY.

You don't mind?

I mind a good deal, old man—I can't tell you how much—I'm glad—awfully glad. (He puts both hands on Jack's shoulders.)

Why, Jack, I feel as if I'd got a new heart in me. We'll put Nelly between us, old man, and face the world together—and, damn it all, we'll win!

JACK MEDBURY.

Brothers!

TED MORRIS.

Brothers!

JACK MEDBURY.

Thanks, old fellow, thanks.

TED MORRIS.

TED MORRIS.

Jack! This demands a drink of some sort. Have you ever tackled methylated spirit?

JACK MEDBURY.

No, I've heard of people drinking it. They say you can't tell it from gin.

TED MORRIS.

Let's try it. It's the very best methylated, this brand.

(He goes up to cupboard and brings it down in two glasses. Jack at the same time gets water from window-sill, and brings it and fills glasses.) Shoulder to shoulder, old man.

JACK MEDBURY.

And our Nelly.

(A knock is heard at door. Both men pause and listen. Knock is repeated. They put their glasses down on table.)

TED MORRIS.

Come in.

(Theodore Travers enters. He is a man about twenty-five, but looks any age. He is well-dressed, well-groomed.)

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Good morning. Mr. Edward Morris, I believe?

TED MORRIS.

I—I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing you.

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Not hitherto. I have come on purpose to remove that reproach from you. I believe you have the distinction of being a cousin of mine. My name is Travers—Theodore Travers.

JACK MEDBURY.

What, the Theodore Travers? The author?

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Well I know of no other. I rather think one of us is sufficient for this sized world. (Turns aside and writes covertly on his cuff.) Books everywhere—microscope—smokes briar—shaves at intervals.

TED MORRIS.

Well, I'm very glad to see you, and I'm very glad to learn you're my cousin, though I don't quite understand how.

THEODORE. TRAVERS.

(Sitting.) Don't you? Oh, it's simple enough. My mother having accomplished the exceedingly satisfactory life's work of introducing me into the world, dies, poor lady. My father, feeling the sole responsibility of bringing up so extraordinary an infant as myself too much for him, marries a charming lady of whom I have always very much approved, a Miss Belinda Greggs, better known as Mdlle. Silvia, the beauteous and world-renowned skipping-rope artiste. This lady, upon the death of my father, marries your uncle. Thus Art becomes the golden link connecting the Morris to the Travers family. (About to drink from one of the glasses.) Gin?

TED MORRIS.

No; an experiment. I don't fancy you'd care for it. (Takes glasses away and puts them back in cupboard.) O yes, I recollect now. Mrs. Ben Dixon was a Mrs. Travers, of course. (Noticing that Theo is again writing on his cuff.) Your cuff is getting rather full, isn't it? Don't you carry a note-book?

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Yes, but you know some people object to it, so I generally make short memoranda on my cuff and copy them out afterwards.

TED MORRIS.

Very considerate of you, I'm sure. But don't you trouble about it in this case. If you can make anything out of us you go ahead. It's more than we can do ourselves.

THEODORE TRAVERS.

(Takes out note-book,) Well now, that's really very kind of you. I will. To tell you the truth,