There is Walter Merry, looking like an eel in convulsions--imagining he has been here about an hour:--you should have seen the expression of the little fellow, when Mrs. Brown gently tapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Master Merry, you're fetched!" Time was annihilated, and memory dumbfounded!--The entertainment that had been looked forward to for days, counted by the hours, and put so many mammas in a pother, is gone!--The hands of the hall-clock are almost perpendicular--it wants but half-an-hour of midnight!--Several anxious mammas have sent several times for their several little ones; and the several servants have been sent away with several evasive answers--for "the little dears are enjoying themselves so much!"--"Mrs. Brown's compliments to Mrs. Fidgets, and would she permit the little Fidgets to stay just ten minutes longer?" No!--the Fidgety footman is only to depart _with_ them; so he is sent to the servants' hall, there to wait, whilst snap-dragon is being prepared in the library--that the evening may end with a grand blue-fire _tableaux_. The room resembles the Black Hole of Calcutta!--Hundreds of little itching fingers are longing to be amongst that pound of raisins, in spirits--all eager, as imps, for the fiendish sport; the darkness and suspense rendering it very exciting--causing Master Jewel (a model boy), who is "wanted directly," to make no answer from the sable mass; until, the summons being repeated, he says something that sounds very like "shan't come!"--and, Master Jewel does not come, until he has had his portion of the fiery food that is flying about in every direction. [Illustration: MASTER MERRY AS HE APPEARED WHEN HE WAS "FETCHED"!!!] [Illustration] [Illustration: END OF JUVENILE PARTY. MASTER BROWN FEELS AS IF HE HAD HAD A GOOD MANY GOOD THINGS.]