"
Miss Featherweight, not being able to think of any answer to this,
looked down and blushed, while the ingenuous Felix looked up and
sighed.
Madge and Brian were in a corner of the room talking over Whyte's
death.
"I never liked him," she said, "but it is horrible to think of him
dying like that."
"I don't know," answered Brian, gloomily; "from all I can hear dying by
chloroform is a very easy death."
"Death can never be easy," replied Madge, "especially to a young man so
full of health and spirits as Mr. Whyte was."
"I believe you are sorry he's dead," said Brian, jealously.
"Aren't you?" she asked in some surprise.
"De mortuis nil nisi bonum," quoted Fitzgerald. "But as I detested him
when alive, you can't expect me to regret his end."
Madge did not answer him, but glanced quickly at his face, and for the
first time it struck her that he looked ill.
"What is the matter with you, dear?" she asked, placing her hand on his
arm. "You are not looking well."
"Nothing--nothing," he answered hurriedly. "I've been a little
worried about business lately--but come," he said, rising, "let us go
outside, for I see your father has got that girl with the steam-whistle
voice to sing."
The girl with the steam-whistle voice was Julia Featherweight, the
sister of Rolleston's inamorata, and Madge stifled a laugh as she went
on to the verandah with Fitzgerald.
"What a shame of you," she said, bursting into a laugh when they were
safely outside; "she's been taught by the best masters.
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