We engage, on her recommendation, a housemaid, and a charwoman of irreproachable antecedents.

Chilvern, who gives himself a holiday, brings his clerk, a sharp little fellow of sixteen, to clean the boots, and render himself generally useful. The first day he was impudent to Mrs. Boodels' maid, and was thrashed by Byrton's servant. He is now quiet and subservient.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR PRETTY PAGE.]

CHAPTER VIII.

A MORNING DISCUSSION.

ON DEAFNESS--ESCAPES--b.u.t.tONHOLED--A DISCUSSION--MORNING LOST--RAGE --DESPAIR.

"Deaf people are very happy," says Boodels, thoughtfully.

"Perhaps," replies the Professor of Scientific Economy; "a deaf person can gain no information from conversation."

"Who does?" asks Bella, pertly.

"Who finds mushrooms in a field?" asks Chilvern, who has been engaged in this lately.

"Give it up," says Milburd. That's the worst of Milburd, when a conversation is beginning to promise some results, he nips it in the bud with the frost of his nonsense.

Bella asks what Mr. Chilvern was going to say. He has nearly forgotten, but recalls it to his mind, on Cazell repeating the word mushrooms.

"Ah, yes," says Chilvern, evidently feeling that the brilliancy of his simile has been taken off by the interruption. "I was going to say _a propos_ of Miss Bella's remark about no one gaining any information from conversation----"

"I didn't say _that_, Mr. Chilvern."

No, of course not. We all side with Miss Bella.

Chilvern nowhere. "Ah, well," he says, "I thought you did."

"And if I had?" asks Miss Bella, triumphantly.

"Eh!--well, if you _had_--" Chilvern meditates, and then answers, "--if you had, why then I was going to say that ...." here he breaks off and finishes, "--well, it doesn't matter now, but it _was_ very good when I first thought of it."

He disappears, _i.e._, from a conversational point of view, in our laughter. He is extinguished.

"What's he saying?" asks Mrs. Boodels.

Milburd takes up the trumpet. "He says," shouts Milburd, it being quite unnecessary to shout, "that he's a very clever fellow."

"Ah," says Mrs. Boodels. "Mr. Chilvern's always joking."

"I never said anything of the sort," says the injured Chilvern to her, defending himself through the ear-trumpet.

"Ah," observes Mrs. Boodels, perfectly satisfied. "I was sure he never could have said that." Then she considers for a few seconds. After this she remarks, "Cleverness, is not one of his strong points."

Whereupon she smiles amiably. Chilvern walks to the window.

"We were saying," says the Professor, who evidently has a whole three-volume lecture ready for us, "that deaf people are happy. Now I controvert that opinion. To be deaf, is not a blessing."

"Then," says Milburd, "a person who is deaf, is not a blessed old man, or old woman, as the case may be."

"You misapprehend me, my dear Milburd. What I would say about deafness, is this--" (_exit BELLA, quietly_,)--"is this--that the loss of the sense of hearing----"

"Is seldom the loss of hearing sense," interrupts Boodels, at the door.

[_Exit BOODELS._

"To a certain extent," continues the Professor, who has Milburd, now, as it were, in his grasp. "Boodels, although putting it lightly, was right.

Sense is uncommon--"

"'Specially common sense," I observe. Being my first remark for some time. But I like the Professor; and his philosophic views have an interest for me that they evidently do not possess for natures which will be always b.u.t.terflying about.

"You are right," says the Professor turning to me, whereupon Milburd rises quietly, and gets to the door. (_Exit MILBURD._) "But common sense, though, I admit, wrongly designated, does not convey to us a positive pleasure. The question, which we are considering--namely, whether to be deaf, is a happiness or not--should be treated in the Socratic method, and the whole reasoning reduced to the simplest syllogisms."

Through the window, I see Bella going out with Milburd. Adelaide is with Boodels. Chilvern is pointing at me: they are all laughing. I smile _to_ them, and at them, as much as to say, "Bless you! I'm with you in spirit, but the Professor has my body." Byrton I see meeting them. He has his driving coat on. Hang it, they're going for some excursion without me.

_Thoughts while the Professor is talking on the pleasures of deafness._--Where are they going to? Why didn't they tell me? I think Bella _might_ have given me some notion. If she's with Milburd, won't he make fun of _me_? Is he trying to cut me out, or not? If "yes," it's deuced unfair of him. Bella doesn't look back, or make any sign to me to come. If I joined them now, should I be _de trop_? No. How can I? It's all _our_ party generally. They disappear into the shrubbery.

Professor suddenly asks me, "That _you'll_ admit, I suppose."

_Happy Thought._--(As I haven't heard a single word of what he's been saying, to reply guardedly), "Well, to a certain extent, perhaps--but--"

then I pause, and frown, as if considering it, whatever it is.

The Professor is lost in amazement. "But," he exclaims, "you _must_ admit _that_. By what theory of approximation can you show that we do not attain to such perfectibility of number; unless you would say, as I _have_ heard advanced by the Budengen school, that the expression is but a formula adapted to our human experience."

I wonder to myself what point he is arguing with me. His subject was Deafness.

_Happy Thought._--(In order to find out where he's got to in his lecture, ask him). "Yes, but how does this tell upon Deafness."

"I will show you; but it is impossible to discuss conclusions unless we settle our premisses." [I hear the trap in the stable yard and Byrton woa-woaing. Bother!] "Will you bring some deep objection to a premiss which is fundamental ...."

I beg his pardon, which premiss?

_Happy Thought._--Better find out what he _is_ talking about, then differ from him point blank, and leave the room.

_Happy Thought._--Pair off. Same idea as that excellent parliamentary arrangement, when you agree to differ with another member, for a whole session, on every question, and then go away and enjoy yourself.

"The premiss," repeats the Professor, "that you would not admit just now. I do not say," he adds--[I hear the wheels. Can I jump up and say, "Excuse me!" and run out. I could if I was a young lady, or an elderly one. But a man can't do it, specially as President, or Host, without being rude]--"that you had not good grounds, but what are those grounds?" Here he plants his _binocle_ on his nose, leans back and stares at me.

Good Heavens! If I hadn't differed from him, or, I mean, if I'd only understood what the----

_Happy Thought._--(_To ask seriously_), "Re-state, exactly, the premiss I disputed." [I'm sure to catch a glimpse of the trap and horses as they drive past the lake. Hang the Professor!]