The very spirit of this word breathed over the Limpenny drawing-room to-night, and Miss Priscilla's lips seemed to murmur it as she gazed across to where her sister Lavinia was engaged in a round game with the young people. These were Admiral Buzza's three daughters, Sophy, Jane, and Calypso--the last named after her father's old ship--and young Mr. Moggridge, the amusing collector of customs. They were playing with ratafias for counters (ratafias were _cumeelfo_), and peals of guileless laughter from time to time broke in upon the grave silence of the whist-table. For always, on such occasions, in the glow of Miss Limpenny's wax candles, Youth and Age held opposite camps, with the centre table as debatable ground; nor, until the rubber was finished, and the round game had ended in a seemly scramble for ratafias, would the two recognise each other's presence, save now and then by a "Hush, if you please, young people," from the elder sister, followed by a whispered, "What spirits your dear girls enjoy!" for Mrs. Buzza's ear. But at length the signal would be given by Miss Priscilla. "Come, a little music perhaps might leave a pleasant taste. What do you say, Vicar?" Upon which the Vicar would regularly murmur-- "Say, rather, would gild refined gold, Miss Limpenny." And the Admiral as invariably broke in with-- "Come, Sophy! remember the proverb about little birds that can sing and won't sing." This prelude having been duly recited, the Misses Buzza would together trip to the piano, on which the two younger girls in duet were used to accompany Sophia's artless ballads. The performance gained a character of its own from a habit to which Calypso clung, of counting the time in an audible aside: as thus-- _Sophia_ (singing): "Oh, breathe but a whispered command." _Calypso: "One, two, three, four_." _Sophia_: "I'll lay down my life for thee!" _Calypso: "One, two, three, four_." --the effect of which upon strangers has been known to be paralysing, though we who were _cumeelfo_ pretended not to notice it. But Sophy could also accompany her own songs, such as, "Will you love me then as now?" and "I'd rather be a daisy," with much feeling. She was clever, too, with the water-colour brush, and to her we owe that picture of "_ H.M.S. Calypso_ in a Storm," which hangs to this day over the Admiral's mantelpiece. I could dwell on this evening for ever; not that the company was so large as usual, but because it was the last night of our simplicity. With the next morning we passed out of our golden age, and in the foolishness of our hearts welcomed the change. It was announced to us in this manner--