And upon this plank of my platform you, my grand-son-to-the-tenth-power, will, I trust, be allowed to float by the womankind of your day, in remembrance of my gallant defence of their rights in mine. Yes, yes, you will be one of the elect and undrowned! CHAPTER IV. “Oh!” cried Alice, springing up from the piano-stool. “But, Mary, I have not told you that he was the identical man who lifted me up the other day when I fell in the street.” “You don’t tell me so!” “Yes, indeed, the very man; and, strangest of all, he seemed to know something about us, or at least about Lucy and Mr. Whacker.” And she related the strange doings and sayings of the Unknown just previous to the close of his interview with Laura. “How very provoking,” cried Mary, impatiently, “that I should have been prevented from dining with you girls by the arrival of that stupid old cousin William, as mother will persist in calling him, though, in my opinion, he is about as nearly related to us as the man in the moon! Pshaw!” And she stamped her foot. “Yes, indeed, I am too sorry. Why, Mary, it would have done”—and her irrepressible eyes began to twinkle—“for a scene in that novel which—” “Now, Alice—” began Mary, reddening. “Which I am thinking of writing,” continued Alice, innocently. “Why, what’s the matter?” “Oh!” “Is Mary writing a novel?” asked Lucy, with eager interest; for she remembered that she had been always regarded as the genius of the school. “I spoke of the novel which _I_ was writing,” persisted Alice. “Yes, but—” “It is a maxim of the common law, Miss Lucy,” remarked the learned counsel, with ponderous gravity, “that all shall be held innocent till proven guilty. But should novel-writing ever be made (as seems inevitable) a statutory offence, I hold it as probable that this ruling will be reversed, and the presumption of the law adjudged, in the present state of literature, to lie the other way,—in plain English, that the _onus probandi innocentiam_ would be held to rest upon the prisoner at the bar.” The two other girls laughed, but Mary rewarded my diversion in her support with a grateful smile. “To think I should have missed it!” “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Come over and dine with us to-morrow, and you will have a chance of seeing him.” “How is that?” asked Mary, with dancing eyes. “Why, he has promised to bring Laura some candy to-morrow evening, and we can all have another look at him.” “Oh, I wonder if he will come?” cried Mary, despondingly. “I have no doubt of it, for he seems in some strange way as much interested in us as we in him. At any rate, you will dine with us. Mr. Whacker will of course do likewise.”