"Then," said Gay, not heeding the interruption, "let +1, +2, +3, represent three grades of high rank."
"Exactly, it's contemptible," said Jessie. "How softly the wind sighs among the trees."
"What is a duke?" asked Gay—not for information, but oratorically, with a view to making a point.
"A mere +3," said Jessie. "Could anything be more hollow. What a lovely evening!"
"The Duke of Buckingham and Chandos—it sounds well, I grant you," continued Gay, "but call him the +3 of Buckingham and Chandos, and you reduce him at once to—"
"I know," said Jessie, "to his lowest common denominator," and her little upper lip curled with contempt.
"Nothing of the kind," said Gay, turning red. "Either hear me out, or let me drop the subject. At all events don't make ridiculous suggestions."
"I'm very sorry, dear," said Jessie, humbly. "Go on, I'm listening, and I won't interrupt any more."
But Gay was annoyed and wouldn't go on. So they returned to the house together. It was their first tiff.
CHAPTER II.
In St. Martin's Lane lived Baylis and Culpepper, magicians, astrologers, and professors of the Black Art. Baylis had sold himself to the Devil at a very early age, and had become remarkably proficient in all kinds of
