"Dress suit, hear the innocent! Not any, thank you. Why, you stupid, you'd spoil all in a swallow-tail coat. What the deuce do you suppose Mrs. V. S. wants of you in black with a white choker? Haven't you sense enough to see that all she cares is to have the proper complement of gilt buttons and straps in her rooms? As for you, my bold soldier boy, you're no account whatever, and she don't just care two pins for your valorous and gallant self; so be sensible--be sensible. Brush up your spread-eagles and prepare; but first get sheared, for you look like a bushwacker with those elf-locks." The advice was in order, for Mark, in singular contrast with his former scrupulousness in that respect, had become rather neglectful of his personal appearance, and his long black hair floating carelessly down his neck befitted the chief of a band of jay-hawkers better than a spruce Federal officer. "Bestir yourself, Gil; you haven't much time," added the major, as a parting injunction. "I'll call for you at ten." Ten o'clock came, and with it the major, who found Mark still in the same attitude, unprepared, and ruefully refilling his pipe. "Now, Gildersleeve, I'll not stand this," exclaimed the lively major. "Go you must. When I say a thing I mean it;" and in spite of his remonstrances the reluctant colonel was borne off to the ball. Their carriage left them at the carpeted porch of a sumptuous residence fronting Madison Square, and a domestic directed them to an upper room. After a little preliminary adjustment of their toilets, they descended to the parlors, to pay their respects to their host and hostess.