_Mrs. T._ Sylvanus, do you know how many people there are in this room? _Mr. T._ Oh, about a dozen, I suppose. _Mrs. T._ About a dozen! There are thirteen, Sylvanus, thirteen! _Mr. T._ Well, what of it? _Mrs. T._ What of it! Why, we can't sit down to dinner with thirteen at table. Maria Smith says she should have a fit. _Mr. T._ But she wouldn't, my dear; she's too fond of her dinner. _Mrs. T._ Mr. Thompson, is it kind to speak so of my most particular friend? _Mr. T._ But what does Maria expect us to do about it? Turn Uncle Sylvanus out of the house? Wasn't I named for him, and haven't I always been his favorite? Do you want me to be left out of his will? _Mrs. T._ But something must be done. Don't you see everybody is whispering and counting? Can't we get somebody else? _Servant_ (_who has entered unperceived_). There is a man downstairs, sir, wants you to sign something. _Mr. T._ Ah, my dear, here's the very man,--young Jones. He's our new cashier, and a very clever fellow. [_Exit Mr. Thompson. During his absence Mrs. Thompson communicates to Miss Smith the solution of the difficulty at which they have arrived. Everybody has soon heard of it, so that on Mr. Thompson's return with Mr. Jones, the pair are greeted with much joking about the ill-luck which is thus averted. The necessary introductions take place._] _Mr. Jones._ I am sure I am rejoiced at being instrumental in bringing good luck. _Miss Smith._ You can certainly see how welcome you are, Mr. Jones. _Mr. J._ But I fear it is not for myself, Miss Smith. _Miss S._ That will undoubtedly come later, when we know you better. _Mr. P._ I am glad you found somebody, nephew; for I must say I never would have given up my dinner for a foolish superstition; and as I came last and uninvited-- _Mrs. T._ (_relieved of her fears and remembering the will_) You are always invited to this house, Uncle Potts; and we would never hear of your going away. _Mr. Robinson._ Well, it is all very well to call it a superstition, you know; but I knew-- [_Mr. Robinson proceeds to narrate a grewsome and melancholy tale, in which disaster and death resulted from the imprudence of sitting down with thirteen at table; half a dozen other guests begin simultaneously the relation of six more equally or even more grewsome and melancholy tales upon the same subject, when they are interrupted by the arrival of a note for Mr. Robinson._] _Mr. R._ My dear Mrs. Thompson, I am so sorry, but my brother has telegraphed for me to come to him at once on a matter of the utmost importance. I regret-- _Mrs. T._ But Mr. Robinson, don't you see that-- _Servant._ Dinner is served. _Mr. T._ May I have the honor, Mrs. Brown? _Miss S._ But we can't go to dinner now. Mr. Robinson is called away, and that leaves us thirteen again.