Kitty, as I listened. The inauguration ceremony has been the stock theme of the newspapers for the last month. Archbishops and bishops--cardinals, for aught I know--have been expected, regardless of expense, to bless everything and everybody, from the sovereign down to the stokers. The programme included a High Mass, military bands, the presence of the whole Court, and a grand _déjeuner_. To have been deemed worthy of an invitation to such a festival was a very legitimate reason for pride. "I have not his Majesty's commands, Mademoiselle," said the General, "to include you in the invitation; but as the King is always pleased to see his Court distinguished by beauty, I may safely promise that you will receive a card within the course of this day or to-morrow." I suppose I must have looked very grateful, for the General dropped his eyes, placed his band on his heart, and said, "Oh, Mademoiselle!" in a tone of voice the most touching you can conceive. I believe, from watching my emotion, and the General's acknowledgment of it, mamma had arrived at the conclusion that the General had come to propose for me. Indeed, I am convinced, Kitty, that such was the impression on her mind, for she whispered in my ear, "Tell him, Mary Anne, that he must speak to papa first." This suggestion at once recalled me to myself, and I explained what he had come for,--apologizing, of course, to the General for having to speak in a foreign language before him. I am certain mamma's satisfaction at the royal invitation totally obliterated any disappointment she might have felt from baffled expectations, and she courtesied and smiled, and papa bowed and simpered so much, that I felt quite relieved when the General withdrew,--having previously kissed ma's hand and mine, with an air of respectful homage only acquired in Courts. Perhaps this scene did not occupy more space than I have taken to describe it, and yet, Kitty, it seems to me as though we had been inhaling the atmosphere that surrounds royalty for a length of time! From my revery on this theme I was aroused by a lively controversy between papa and mamma. "Egad!" says papa, "Pummistone's blunder has done us good service. They 've surely taken us for something very distinguished. Look out, Mary Anne, and see if there 's any Dodds in the peerage." "Fudge!" cried mamma; "there's no blunder whatever in the case! We are beginning to be known, that's all; nor is there anything very astonishing in the fact, seeing that King Leopold is the uncle to our own Queen. I should like to know what is there more natural than that we should receive attention from his Court?" "Maybe it's James's accident," muttered papa. "It's no such thing, I'm certain," replied mamma, angrily, "and it's downright meanness to impute to a mere casualty what is the legitimate consequence of our position."