"I remember. Oh, but what a racket you made among the pans!" She laughed softly at the recollection. "I was properly spanked that night," I admitted. And straightway we uncovered thirty and twenty years respectively. "By the way," said I carelessly, "is Nancy Marsden engaged to be married?" "Nancy? She never will be, to my idea. She recently turned down a real duke: a duke that had money and everything." "And everything: is that castles?" I inquired. "Nonsense!" "Well, between you and me and the gatepost, Miss Nancy will be engaged within two months." "No!"--excitedly. "It is written." "And to whom, pray?" "It's the woman's place to announce an engagement. But I know the man." "He is worthy?" "Oh, as men go." Then the water-clock in the fountain struck twelve, and I sprang up. "Mercy, I'll never find any Cinderella at this rate. All is lost if she escapes me." I kissed her hand gratefully, and made off. I immediately ran into a young miss who, judging from her short dresses, was a guest on sufferance, not having "come out" yet. "Are you Cinderella?" I asked, with all the gravity I could assume. "Thank you, sir, but mama will not permit me," her cheeks growing furiously red. I passed on, willing to wager that the little girl had understood me to ask her to dance with me. How I searched among the young faces; many I saw that I knew, but my confounded beard (which I determined to cut the very next morning) hid me as completely as the fabled invisible cloak. I wondered where Jim was--Nancy's brother. I had seen him in Europe, and I knew if he were anywhere around there would be one to clap me on the back and bid me welcome home. This prodigal business isn't what it's cracked up to be.... Somehow I felt that within a few days I should be making love again to Nancy; and I may truthfully add that I dreaded the ordeal while I courted it. What if she refused me in the end? I cast out at once this horrific thought as unworthy a man of my address. Under the stairway there was a cozy corner. Upon the cushions I saw a dark-haired girl in red. Now, when they haven't a dash of red in their hair I like it in their dress. She was pretty, besides; so I stopped. "Pardon me, but won't you tell me if you are Cinderella?"--producing the slipper. "I am,"--with an amused smile. "Then there _is_ a Cinderella, after all?" I cried joyfully. "Where are the pumpkins?" glancing about. "I believe that several of them have gone hunting for the slipper." I was delighted. Three witty women all in one night, and two of them charming. It was more than a man had any right to expect. "You have really and truly lost a slipper?" "Really and truly; only I am _not_ the Cinderella you are looking for." From under her skirt there came into view (immediately to disappear) a small scarlet slipper. I was very much taken aback. "Red?" said I. "Ah, I have it. The wicked fairy has cast a spell over the slipper and turned it white."