“Papa,” Clara said, after looking down on the audience awhile, “did you ever observe how bald heads light up an assembly like this? They reflect the gas, and have a very cheerful effect. Oh! there is Mel. Attention! See, the conquering hero comes. My poor little mother is nearly invisible. Such a small duenna! How frightfully conspicuous! See the doctor smile, and show them to the very front chairs, and see the filial manner in which he behaves to Mrs. Yorke. Suppose he should take to coloring his hair! There! they are seated at last, after that display, and I must own that Mel’s stage-manners are very good. If only they would not look so conscious! Edith, why is Doctor Stewart like a verd-antique? It’s a conundrum.” That night, after Melicent had gone to her room, the others sat talking over the wedding. Doctor Stewart had desired that it might be soon. Edith proposed to give the trousseau. “We cannot allow you, my dear,” her aunt said. “Your uncle and I have something, and Melicent must take what we can give her. You are too bountiful already!” Edith drew writing materials toward her, and began to make out a bill. MISS EDITH YORKE, _To_ Charles Yorke and family, _Dr._ To seven years’ board and tuition, $7,000 “ “ “ clothing, 1,400 “ Instruction in her religion, 20,000,000 “ Kindness to Father Rasle, 10,000,000 “ Never being anything but kind to her, 10,000,000 “ Sundries, 10,000,000 “ Joining her once in Catholic prayer, 100,000,000,000,000,000 ------------------------- $100,000,000,050,008,400 “I think that is correct,” she said, showing the bill to her uncle. “I am mathematical in my tastes, you know. I do not like the dollars, though, the association is so vulgar. We will put it in some classical gold coin. It shall be rose-nobles.” Looking in Mr. Yorke’s face as he smiled on her, she exclaimed, “Uncle, you have a look of my father, now!” “And you have a look of my brother,” he returned. “Your eyes are changeful, like his, and your hair has a sunny hue. When you coax, too, your ways are like his. Robert was very winning.” She put her arm in his, and looked reproachfully across the table to her aunt. “And yet,” she said, “you are not willing that I should give Melicent a few pocket-handkerchiefs to be married with!” Mrs. Yorke laughed. “You shall give her as many handkerchiefs as you please,” she said. * * * * * But what, meantime, of Dick Rowan? Mrs. Yorke had called at once to see him on her arrival, but he had already gone to make a retreat, and they did not see him afterward.