Well, we had games of forfeits and danced, and Ida played charming things by Mendelssohn on the piano, and Leah sang very nicely in a fine, bold, frank, deep voice, like a choir-boy's, and Mrs. Gibson danced a Spanish fandango, and displayed feet and ankles of which she was very proud, and had every right to be; and then Mr. Gibson played a solo on the flute, and sang "My Pretty Jane"--both badly enough to be very funny without any conscious effort or straining on his part. Then we supped, and the food was good, and we were all very jolly indeed; and after supper Mr. Gibson said to me: "Now, Mister Parleyvoo--can't _you_ do something to amuse the company? You're _big_ enough!" I professed my willingness to do _anything_--and wished I was as Barty more than ever! "Well, then," says he--"kneel to the wittiest, bow to the prettiest--and kiss the one you love best." This was rather a large order--but I did as well as I could. I went down on my knees to Mr. Gibson and craved his paternal blessing; and made my best French bow with my heels together to old Mrs. Bletchley; and kissed my sister, warmly thanking her in public for having introduced me to Mrs. Gibson: and as far as mere social success is worth anything, I was the Barty of that party! Anyhow, Mr. Gibson conceived for me an admiration he never failed to express when we met afterwards, and though this was fun, of course, I had really won his heart. It is but a humble sort of triumph to crow over--and where does Barty Josselin come in? Pazienza! "Well--what do you think of Leah Gibson?" said my sister, as we walked home together through Torrington Square. "I think she's a regular stunner," said I--"like her mother and her grandmother before her, and probably her _great_-grandmother too." And being a poetical youth, and well up in my Byron, I declaimed: "She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes."... Old fogy as I am, and still given to poetical quotations, I never made a more felicitous quotation than that. I little guessed then to what splendor that bony black-eyed damsel would reach in time. * * * * * All through this period of high life and low dissipation Barty kept his unalterable good-humor and high spirits--and especially the kindly grace of manner and tact and good-breeding that kept him from ever offending the most fastidious, in spite of his high spirits, and made him many a poor grateful outcast's friend and darling. I remember once dining with him at Greenwich in very distinguished company; I don't remember how I came to be invited--through Barty, no doubt. He got me many invitations that I often thought it better not to accept. "Ne sutor ultra crepidam!" It was a fish dinner, and Barty ate and drank a surprising amount--and so did I, and liked it very much.