limit of tension. "This at least," she returned; "that we
shall not be placed again in the humiliating position of
finding ourselves less up on our own subjects than Fanny
Roby!"
Even to Mrs. Plinth this argument was conclusive. She
peered furtively about the room and lowered her com-
manding tones to ask: "Have you got a copy?"
"A—a copy?" stammered Mrs. Ballinger. She was aware
that the other members were looking at her expectantly,
and that this answer was inadequate, so she supported
it by asking another question. "A copy of what?"
Her companions bent their expectant gaze on Mrs. Plinth,
who, in turn, appeared less sure of herself than usual.
"Why, of—of—the book," she explained.
"What book?" snapped Miss Van Vluyck, almost as sharply
as Osric Dane.
Mrs. Ballinger looked at Laura Glyde, whose eyes were
interrogatively fixed on Mrs. Leveret. The fact of being
deferred to was so new to the latter that it filled her with an
insane temerity. "Why, Xingu, of course!" she exclaimed.
A profound silence followed this challenge to the resourc-
es of Mrs. Ballinger's library, and the latter, after glancing
nervously toward the Books of the Day, returned with
dignity: "It's not a thing one cares to leave about."
"I should think not!" exclaimed Mrs. Plinth.
"It is a book, then?" said Miss Van Vluyck.
HYLAND
