“Dere, Miss Anneke!” exclaimed Katrinke, suddenly; “dere come a genttleum dat will bring a pleasure, I know.” “_Anneke,” I_ repeated, mentally, and “gentleman that will cause pleasure by his appearance.” “Can it be Dirck?” I thought. Sure enough, Dirck it proved to be, who advanced rapidly to the group, making a general salute, and finishing by shaking my beautiful young stranger's hands, and addressing her by the name of “cousin Anneke.” This, then, was Annie Mordaunt, as the young lady was commonly called in the English circles, the only child and heiress of Herman Mordaunt, of Crown Street and of Lilacsbush. Well, Dirck has more taste than I had ever given him credit for! Just as this thought glanced through my mind, my figure caught my friend's eye, and, with a look of pride and exultation, he signed to me to draw nearer, though I had managed to get pretty near as it was, already. “Cousin Anneke,” said Dirck, who never used circumlocution, when direct means were at all available, “this is Corny Littlepage, of whom you have heard me speak so often, and for whom I ask one of your best curtsies and sweetest smiles.” Miss Mordaunt was kind enough to comply literally, both curtsying and smiling precisely as she had been desired to do, though I could see she was also slightly disposed to laugh. I was still making my bow, and mumbling some unintelligible compliment, when Katrinke gave a little exclamation, and using the freedom of an old and confidential servant, she eagerly pulled the sleeve of her young mistress, and hurriedly whispered something in her ear. Anneke coloured, turned quickly towards me, bent her eyes more boldly and steadily on my face--and then it was that I fancied the sweetest smile which mortal had ever received, or that with which I had just before been received, was much surpassed. “Mr. Littlepage, I believe, is not a total stranger, cousin Dirck,” she said. “Katrinke remembers him, as a young gentleman who once did me an important service, and now I think I can trace the resemblance myself! I allude to the boy who insulted me on the Bowery Road, Mr. Littlepage, and your handsome interference in my behalf.” “Had there been twenty boys, Miss Mordaunt, an insult to _you_ would have been resented by any man of ordinary spirit.” I do not know that any youth, who was suddenly put to his wits to be polite, or sentimental, or feeling, could have done a great deal better than _that_! So Anneke thought too, I fancy, for her colour increased, rendering her ravishingly lovely, and she looked surprisingly pleased. “Yes,” put in Dirck with energy,--“let twenty, or a hundred try it if they please, Anneke, men or boys, and they'll find those that will protect you.”