gayety that makes me cry sometimes!" The Judge nodded. Kitty passed at that moment, dancing with Mr. Mallow, who handed her about as if she were a cream tart on a gold dish. The Judge's eyes rested very tenderly on the girl. "Well!" Madam Flynt bent still nearer till her lilac cap ribbons touched the Judge's fine gray hair. "I was thinking about her one evening, about ten days ago; and all of a sudden I seemed to hear Doctor speaking, as plain as I hear you to-night. 'Give her a dance!' he said. 'Give her a dance!' Now I am no spiritualist, Edward, but--what do you want, Cornelia Croly? I have told you that I will _not_ be hovered over. You may be a hen turkey, but I am _not_--what is it?" Miss Croly set her thin lips and advanced with a look of humble resolution. "Clarissa," she said firmly, "there _is_ a draught!" and she folded the crape shawl round Madam Flynt's ample shoulders. Madam Flynt is a large woman, usually deliberate in her movements; but in the twinkling of an eye the shawl was whisked off, rolled in a ball, and handed to Judge Peters. "Put that under my chair, will you, Edward?" said the lady. "_Well_ under, so that nobody can get at it. Cornelia, I shall be obliged if you will go and see about supper. Time it was announced!" Madam Flynt's supper ought to have a whole chapter to itself, but that may not be. It was a wonderful and delightful supper, and never was feast more thoroughly enjoyed. Kitty and I sat with the Chanters; such a merry time as we had! Sarepta had made the chicken salad, Sarah the croquettes, Abby Ann the coffee and rolls: as for the ice-cream, Bobby insisted that all the good fairies in the Fairy Book must have taken a turn at it; it was too good to be the work of earthly hands. Bobby glowed till you could have warmed your hands at him. His radiance was not lessened by the sight of Wilson Wibird glowering across the room. "Poor Wilse!" he chuckled. "Supper doesn't seem to agree with him! Gee! it does with me, though! This salad suits my complaint first-rate: I wouldn't wonder but I got well now. Let me get you some more, Kitty!" Kitty's kind heart smote her a little at sight of Wilson's tragic face. Had she been _too_ horrid to him? She was almost sorry she hadn't another dance, though it was odious to be held so tight, and he _would_ bump into one with his knees. There were no more dances for Kitty that night. Her own party though it was, she had firmly refused to let it interfere with business. Directly after supper she slipped away, after a whisper in Madam Flynt's ear that brought the tears to the good lady's eyes, and made her even speak mildly when Miss Croly thought more ice-cream would not be good for her. "I can get it myself, Cornelia," she said, "if you don't feel equal to the exertion. Or here is Mr. Jordano. Mr. Jordano, will you be so kind as to bring me some more ice-cream? Thank you! on the whole I'll have frozen pudding!"