“Forbid the thought!” cried she, in melodramatic tone and gesture. “No; long have I felt that thou had’st some sweet whisper for me o’er-hungry ear, but thy bashful reticence—I deny it not—did breed in me girlish heart a most rantankerous doubt. Speak! Remove this doubt rantankerous! But st! One approaches! Let’s seek some secluded nook! Beholdest yon fateful Argo? On!” And passing her arm through his, she advanced down the piazza with the tread and look of an operatic gipsy-queen full of mezzo-soprano mystery, which she is to unveil before the foot-lights; while he, to the delight and amazement of the spectators, strode forward in the well-known wide, yet cautious tread of the approaching bandit; to which nothing was lacking save the muffling cloak and the _pizzicato_ on the double-basses. Reaching the steps. “On!” cried she, flashing forth an arm. “Descend!” “Encore! Encore!” shouted the audience, to which she deigned no reply, and the pair stepped upon the turf. “Have you ever heard the ‘Daughter of the Regiment’?” asked she, halting and speaking in her natural manner. “But of course you have. Strange to relate, I have myself heard it twice. You remember the Rataplan duet? Of course. Well, I am what’s-her-name, and you are the old sergeant! Come!” And with that she strutted gayly off, rattling an imaginary drum with rare vivacity. Again the Don was not to be outdone; rubadubbing, to the surprise of all, in a deep sonorous voice; strutting, who but he, and every inch a soldier. Vociferous applause! The actors turned and bowed low. “Unprecedented enthusiasm!” (whispered Alice) “the Gallery has tumbled into the Pit!” Which was true; for the audience had rushed pell-mell upon the lawn, Mrs. Carter alone remaining upon the porch, unable, for the present, to rise, her chubby hands darting in every direction in vain search for her handkerchief. For the moment the household service at Elmington was disorganized, and grinning heads protruded from the chamber windows. Let them grin on! In those days there was time for play, as well as for work. “Umgh—umgh, heish!” ejaculated Uncle Dick, from his pantry window. “Miss Alice are a oner, _I_ tell you!” What our august butler meant by “hush!” I cannot say, as Zip had uttered no word. Perhaps he was shutting up some imaginary person, conceived as about to deny the proposition that Miss Alice was a “oner.” “Hein?” (pronounce as though French), said Zip, walling up his eyes. “Wash dem dishes, boy! Do you ’spose I was gwine for to ’dress no remarks to de likes of you ’bout a young mistiss? Mind you business, and stop gapin’ through de window!” Moses made a show of obedience, rattling the plates together with unusual vigor; but for all that he craned his neck for a view of the lawn, keeping a weather eye out, the while, upon the ready right hand of his chief,—a man of summary methods with his subordinates.