“Persephone—Europa——” murmured Madie, at her side, getting tangled in her mythology. Alice pressed her clasped hands against her bosom in ecstasy as the notes rose higher. “Hold me, Madie, or I shall rush to extinction in the arms of this siren.” She clung to Madie. The song finished, and Will turned round. “Take it calmly, Miss Gall,” he said. “I hope you’re not hit too badly.” “Oh—how can you say ‘take it calmly’—how can the savage beast be calm!” “I’m sorry for you,” said Will. “You are the cause of my trouble, dear boy,” replied Alice. “I never thought you’d come,” said Madie. “Skimmed here like an Indian ‘brra-ave,’” said Will. “Like Hiawatha towards Minnehaha. I knew you were coming.” “You know,” simpered Madie, “It gave me quite a flutter when I heard the piano. It is a year since I saw you. How did you get here?” “I came on snow-shoes,” said he. “Real Indian,—came from Canada—they’re just ripping.” “Oh—Aw-w _do_ go and put them on and show us—_do!—do_ perform for us, Billy dear!” cried Alice. “Out in the cold and driving sleet—no fear,” said he, and he turned to talk to Madie. Alice sat chatting with mother. Soon Tom Smith came, and took a seat next to Marie; and sat quietly looking over his spectacles with his sharp brown eyes, full of scorn for William, full of misgiving for Leslie and Lettie. Shortly after, George and Emily came in. They were rather nervous. When they had changed their clogs, and Emily had taken off her brown-paper leggings, and he his leather ones, they were not anxious to go into the drawing room. I was surprised—and so was Emily—to see that he had put on dancing shoes. Emily, ruddy from the cold air, was wearing a wine coloured dress, which suited her luxurious beauty. George’s clothes were well made—it was a point on which he was particular, being somewhat self-conscious. He wore a jacket and a dark bow. The other men were in evening dress. We took them into the drawing-room, where the lamp was not lighted, and the glow of the fire was becoming evident in the dusk. We had taken up the carpet—the floor was all polished—and some of the furniture was taken away—so that the room looked large and ample. There was general hand shaking, and the newcomers were seated near the fire. First mother talked to them—then the candles were lighted at the piano, and Will played to us. He is an exquisite pianist, full of refinement and poetry. It is astonishing, and it is a fact. Mother went out to attend to the tea, and after a while, Lettie crossed over to Emily and George, and, drawing up a low chair, sat down to talk to them. Leslie stood in the window bay, looking out on the lawn where the snow grew bluer and bluer and the sky almost purple. Lettie put her hands on Emily’s lap, and said softly, “Look—do you like it?” “What! engaged? exclaimed Emily. “I am of age, you see,” said Lettie.