“Oh, how I swelled!” cried Lettie. “There were you all at the top of the steps gazing with admiration! But Frank Wishaw was not a nice fellow, though he played the violin beautifully. I never liked his eyes—” “No,” added Will. “He didn’t last long, did he?—though long enough to oust me. We had a giddy ripping time in Coll., didn’t we?” “It was not bad,” said Lettie. “Rather foolish. I’m afraid I wasted my three years.” “I think,” said Leslie, smiling, “you improved the shining hours to great purpose.” It pleased him to think what a flirt she had been, since the flirting had been harmless, and only added to the glory of his final conquest. George felt very much left out during these reminiscences. When we had finished tea, we adjourned to the drawing-room. It was in darkness, save for the fire light. The mistletoe had been discovered, and was being appreciated. “Georgie, Sybil, Sybil, Georgie, come and kiss me,” cried Alice. Will went forward to do her the honour. She ran to me, saying, “Get away, you fat fool—keep on your own preserves. Now Georgie dear, come and kiss me, ’cause you haven’t got nobody else but me, no y’ ave n’t. Do you want to run away, like Georgy-Porgy apple-pie? Shan’t cry, sure I shan’t, if you are ugly.” She took him and kissed him on either cheek, saying softly, “You shan’t be so serious, old boy—buck up, there’s a good fellow.” We lighted the lamp, and charades were proposed, Leslie and Lettie, Will and Madie and Alice went out to play. The first scene was an elopement to Gretna Green—with Alice a maid servant, a part that she played wonderfully well as a caricature. It was very noisy, and extremely funny. Leslie was in high spirits. It was remarkable to observe that, as he became more animated, more abundantly energetic, Lettie became quieter. The second scene, which they were playing as excited melodrama, she turned into small tragedy with her bitterness. They went out, and Lettie blew us kisses from the doorway. “Doesn’t she act well?” exclaimed Marie, speaking to Tom. “Quite realistic,” said he. “She could always play a part well,” said mother. “I should think,” said Emily, “she could take a role in life and play up to it.” “I believe she could,” mother answered, “there would only be intervals when she would see herself in a mirror acting.” “And what then?” said Marie. “She would feel desperate, and wait till the fit passed off,” replied my mother, smiling significantly. The players came in again. Lettie kept her part subordinate. Leslie played with brilliance; it was rather startling how he excelled. The applause was loud—but we could not guess the word. Then they laughed, and told us. We clamoured for more. “Do go, dear,” said Lettie to Leslie, “and I will be helping to arrange the room for the dances. I want to watch you—I am rather tired—it is so exciting—Emily will take my place.”