CHAPTER IV.
SALOME'S CHOICE.
Sir Lemuel Levison was taking his breakfast in bed.

The London season was near its close.

Parliament sat late at night, and often all night.

Sir Lemuel, a punctual and diligent member of the House, seldom returned home before the early dawn.
So Sir Lemuel was taking his breakfast in bed, and "small blame to him." It was a very simple breakfast of black tea, dry toast, fresh eggs, and cold ham.
"Take these things away now, Potts.

Go and find Miss Levison's maid, and tell her to let her mistress know that I wish to see my daughter here, before she goes out," said the banker, as he drained and set down his tea-cup.
"Yes, Sir Lemuel," respectfully answered the servant, as he lifted the breakfast tray and bore it off.
"Umph! that is the manner in which I have to manoeuvre for an interview with my own daughter, before I can get one," grumbled the banker, as he lay back on his pillow and took up a newspaper from the counter-pane.
Before he had time to read the morning's report of the night's doings at the House, Salome entered the room.
The banker darted a swift keen look at her, that took in her whole aspect at a glance.
She was dressed for a drive.