"Mr. Pamflett was speaking of you yesterday," said Mr. Linton.
"Mr. Pamflett!" exclaimed Phœbe, shrinking at the name.
"Yes. He said you were the most lovely girl in all London, and that there was no service you could call upon him to render which he would not cheerfully perform."
"I scarcely know him, sir," murmured Phoebe.
"Let us go in to tea," said Mr. Lethbridge, "or mother will be impatient. A terrible tyrant, Mr. Linton; a terrible tyrant!"
CHAPTER XII.
THE READING OF THE NEW PLAY.
It was the merriest tea-party imaginable; and Aunt Leth's mind was at ease, in consequence of the time which had been afforded her to make suitable preparations for so eminent a guest as the dramatic author. In pouring out the tea, she helped him last, saying gaily,
"The first of the coffee, Mr. Linton, the last of the tea."