kind of way, and we both lost our stiffness in a hearty laugh. Without waiting for more arrivals I hurried her off to the nursery.
“I thought you were not coming,” I began, as soon as we were fairly in, “but that you and that Frank somebody were to have a doll’s party.”
“Yes, but you see Frank and I fell out,” she replied quickly, “and I think he is ever so mean.”
“So do I,” I responded warmly, “don’t let’s have anything more to do with him; we can always have more fun by ourselves, can’t we?”
“Yes, we can; you are not mad because I said what I did yesterday, are you?”
“No, that I am not,” I replied, delighted at the turn things had taken; “but come, Lulie, let me show you what father gave me on my birthday.”
Sitting down together on the rug before the bright glowing fire, we took out of its box a little model of a house in separate pieces, and commenced to put it together. I sat and gazed at her, as she bent over the blocks, trying to make piece after piece fit; and she looked so beautiful, with one side of her face all red from the fire, and her clustering brown curls drooping so gracefully around it, that I could resist the inclination no longer, but leaned forward and kissed the glowing cheek.
“Oh stop!” she said, tossing her head without looking up; “you bother me so I can’t build the house at all.”
This was so much milder than I expected I tried another.
“Stop, I tell you,” she exclaimed, feigning to strike me with one of the blocks; “see, you’ve tumbled all the top of the house off.”
“I will stop,” I said, looking at her very earnestly, “if you will give me a kiss of your own accord.”
“Here, then,” she said, raising her head; and throwing back her curls she put up her rosy lips, and I kissed her. People say children know nothing about love, but there was a thrill of pleasure and a smack of romance in that kiss before the nursery fire, that none which have ever since touched my lips have possessed.
We amused ourselves in various ways till the servant brought in our dinner, spread the nursery table, and, as I gave Lulie my high chair, piled up books in another for me, to bring me up to a comfortable level with our meal, then left us to enjoy it. We chewed out praises, and smacked out lavish encomiums on the skill of the cook, as we eagerly applied ourselves to her dainties; and when Lulie had sipped the last trembling particle of blanc mange, and added the debris of the last grape to the goodly pile on her fruit plate, we got down, instead of rising, from our chairs, and went from the nursery to the dining room. The ladies had withdrawn some time since, and the gentlemen had almost finished their wine. The two young men, who had characterized dinners with old folks as devilish bores, had excused themselves, and gone back to the parlors.
Finding nothing to interest us in the dry, stale jokes or political fanfarronade of the dining room party, we ran off to the parlors, and took our station on each side of the door, to watch all within. The ladies were grouped round the fires or examining the pictures, while Mr. Cassell and Miss Ella, Mr. Berton and Miss Gertrude, were promenading slowly the whole length of the rooms. We thought this was a great sign of love, and watched them with great interest. As they approached our end of the room we could hear very well, but when their backs were turned their words were gradually lost; so that our ideas of the tenor of their conversation were somewhat disconnected. Mr. Berton, who seemed interested in what he was saying, and Miss Gertrude equally so, approached first.
“Yes, indeed,” he was saying, as they came into earshot, “we had a most charming time. The moonlight was as bright as day, and the Minnie scarcely rippled the water. The music, too, was better than usual, and we danced eight sets going down, besides the round dances. We missed you a great deal; everybody was inquiring for Miss Gertrude.”
“Ella told me what a delightful excursion it was,” replied Miss G., trying to pout bewitchingly, as if still vexed at her own absence. “I was so exceedingly unwell that ma would not hear to my going, and I had a real hard cry over it. When do we have another?”
“I am afraid not before another moon. We are talking, however, of getting up a picnic for the Sound next – .” They passed down the room, and out of hearing, as Cassell and Miss Ella came up, she all smiles, he all languor.
“You say they are from the western part of the State?” he inquired, with a drawl, as if he only pursued the subject because he was too lazy to find another.
“Yes,” replied Miss Ella, with nervous vivacity, “from Charlotte, I think. They are quite an addition to our society, are they not?”
“Quite!” laconicised Cassell, as if he had done all for the subject that could be required of him.
“And then,” she continued, “they are connected with the Cartoneaus of South Carolina, who, you know, are some of the first people in the State. Mr. Paning brought a letter of introduction to pa from Judge Francis Cartoneau. He and ma called, of course, and were much pleased, though Mrs. Paning, ma thought, was a little stiff.”
Lulie and I were immensely interested in this conversation, and eagerly listened for its further development.
Mr. Cassell paused awhile, as if to debate whether his system could stand a continuance of the conversation, then, with a resigned arch of his eyebrows to himself, asked:
“Do they intend to reside here?”
“Oh yes, they have bought Mr. Huxley’s place, and are having it fitted up in magnificent style. When they move in I understand they intend giving a grand ball!”
Mr. Cassell paused again, then taking a flower from his lappel, bit it savagely, and asked:
“Have they any daughters?” as if it was the last question she might expect from him.
“No, they have only one child – a little boy – named Frank, after his uncle, Judge Cartoneau.”
Cassell did not appear at all interested in the name of the little boy, but I was intensely so, and leaned in the door to hear more, but, unfortunately, they had passed down the room out of hearing, while Miss Gertrude and her beau came again into audience. They were still on the subject of the excursion, and Mr. Berton was verging towards the sentimental, while Miss Gertrude was encouraging him with all the art she could command.
“I’ll vow I didn’t, Miss Gerty; I sat apart almost the whole night, thinking of you.”
“Why, Mr. Berton! Ella told me you were perfectly devoted to Miss Withers.”
“Withers, indeed! she’s perfectly horrid; but did you think enough of me to inquire what I did?”
“Of course, I – ” Her remarks were broken off, as far as we were concerned, by the entrance of the gentlemen from the dining room. We tried to dodge, and get away, but two of them caught us, and holding us by the ears, asked our names – which question seems to be, with most people, a test of a child’s intelligence. To answer it was a task I dreaded more than Hercules did the Augean stables. My name, short as it was, seemed to stretch into a length equal to the King of Siam’s whenever I had to pronounce it; and I have often blessed the man who invented cards. There being no escape now, we drawled out, respectively, “John Smith” and “Lulie Mayland,” and were released, one of our captors remarking as we scampered off:
“Smith, you and Mayland ought to raise them up for each other. They will make a fine match one of these days.”
I fully forgave him for asking my name, and earnestly wished he might be a prophet.
Glad to get away, Lulie and I ran out into the back yard, and played till ‘twas very dark, when one of the servants came to call us in. We found all the guests gone but Dr. and Mrs. Mayland, who were just entering their carriage. I bade Lulie a hasty good-bye, and turned back into the house, feeling a joyous flutter about the heart, as if a humming bird were enclosed in it and was struggling to escape. Mother met me in the hall, and said:
“John, it is so late you need not get your lesson to-night, but, as you are perhaps sleepy, you can go into the nursery, and