inclined to show himself worthy of the character she had given him, and, hearing her say "I never take wine with my soup!" (this was not a confidence to me, but was launched upon Society, as a matter of general interest), he at once challenged a combat by asking her when would you say that property commence in a plate of soup?"
"This is my soup," she sternly replied: "and what is before you is yours."
"No doubt," said Arthur: "but when did I begin to own it? Up to the moment of its being put into the plate, it was the property of our host: while being offered round the table, it was, let us say, held in trust by the waiter: did it become mine when I accepted it? Or when it was placed before me? Or when I took the first spoonful?"
"He is a very argumentative young man!" was all the old lady would say: but she said it audibly, this time, feeling that Society had a right to know it.
Arthur smiled mischievously. "I shouldn't mind betting you a shilling," he said, "that the Eminent Barrister next you" (It certainly is
