rustling folds, and buttons her well-fitting gloves, the possibility of her marrying again seems no such absurdity after all, nor does she herself look upon such an event as by any means a remote contingency. But soon the knocker is at work, the chariot wheels are clattering in the street, and stentorian voices, louder in proportion to their indistinctness, announce the fast-arriving guests. Unlike a country ball, the feathers of the ladies require but little shaking after a short drive from the next street, nor, fresh from their own impartial mirrors, need they hazard the opinion of perhaps an unbecoming reflector; so they troop up-stairs with small delay, their glossy locks, white shoulders, and gossamer draperies showing to the greatest advantage in the well-lighted ball-room. The earliest arrivals of course receive the most affectionate greeting, proportionately decreased as the plot thickens, till the shake by both hands, and graceful little compliment about “looking so well,” subsides into a stately courtesy and the coldest welcome good-breeding, not hospitality, will admit. At last all individual figures are well-nigh lost in the crush. A mass of charming dresses and well-made coats are swaying and struggling in the doorways, the band is pealing forth a melody of Paradise, and the votaries of the quadrille are striving to adhere to their superstitious evolutions by treading on each other’s toes, entangling each other’s dresses, begging each other’s pardon, and generally complaining of the heat of the atmosphere and crowded state of the room. It is at this juncture that “General Bounce” and “Miss Kettering” make their appearance, the General having placed a guard upon his lips, and neither during the dinner nor the drive hinted at his misgivings and inner discomfiture. “Poor Blanche!” he mutters, as he follows her up the wide, stately staircase; “she’ll know it soon enough, if it’s true--zounds! a girl like that would be a prize without a penny--the young fellows now-a-days are not like what _we_ used to be.” And as the General arrived at this conclusion he bowed his bald head nearly into Lady Mount Helicon’s bosom, in return for her stately, measured greeting. That greeting, both to himself and Blanche, was colder than usual; the girl, frank and unconscious, did not perceive the change, but her uncle caught himself saying, almost aloud, “Zounds! is it possible that this old cat knows it too?” The music ceased, the dancers walked about, the wrongly-paired ones looking for “mamma,” or “my aunt,” inwardly longing to get rid of each other, and glancing in every direction for their own particular vanities, the more fortunate couples likewise keeping a sharp look-out for the chaperons, but this in order to avoid them, and hinting that “It’s much cooler on the staircase,” or “Have you seen the conservatory?” to prolong the delicious interview. The tea-room begins to fill, and incautious youth presses that domestic beverage on beauty