"It isn't true. I don't believe a word of it," says Tita, making a
snatch at the paper.

"My dear girl, why not? Two dozen old toothbrushes. _Old_
toothbrushes, you notice. Everything old now goes for a large sum,
except," thoughtfully, "aunts."

He casts a lingering glance round, but providentially Miss Gower has
disappeared.

"But toothbrushes! Show me that paper."

"Do you, then, disbelieve in my word?"

"Nobody could want a toothbrush."

"Some people want them awfully," says Mr. Gower. "Haven't you
noticed?"

But here Sir Maurice sees it his duty to interfere.

"Miss Bolton, will you play this next set with me?" says he, coming
up to Tita.

"Oh, I should _love_ it!" cries she. "You are so good a player. Do
get us some decent people to play against, though; I hate a weak
game."

"Well, come, we'll try and manage it," says he, amused at her