sire, and threw her
arms round his neck.

"Oh yes! papa," she said, "invite as many as you can, I will learn to
play some country-dances that we may have a ball, and finish my head of
Belisarius--you must get it framed for the occasion."

And the little Ascanius whooped and hollo'd in the middle of the room.
"I shall have tea and punch and cakes. I'll eat every thing!"

After this conversation M. Lupot had set to work. He went to his friends
and his friends' friends--to people he hardly knew, and invited them to
his party, begging them to bring any body with them they liked. M. Lupot
had formerly sold rose-coloured paper to a musician, and drawing pencils
to an artist. He went to his ancient customers, and pressed them to come
and to bring their professional friends with them. In short, M. Lupot
was so prodigiously active that in four days he had run through nearly
the whole of Paris, caught an immense cold, and spent seven shillings in
cab hire. Giving an entertainment has its woes as well as its pleasures.

The grand day, or rather the grand evening, at last arrived. All the
lamps were lighted, and they had even borrowed some from their
neighbours; for Celanire had discovered that their own three lamps
did not give light enough both for the public-room and the
supper-room--(which on ordinary occasions was a bed-chamber.) It was the
first time that M. Lupot had borrowed any thing--but also it was the
first time that M. Lupot gave a soiree.

From the dawn of day M. Lupot was busy in preparation: He had ordered in
cakes and refreshments; bought sundry packs of cards, brushed the
tables, and tucked up the curtains. Madame Lupot had sat all the time
quietly on the sofa, ejaculating from time to time, "I'm afraid 'twill
be a troublesome business all this receiving company."

Celanire had finished her Belisarius, who was an exact likeness of Blue
Beard, and whom they had honoured with a Gothic frame, and placed in a
conspicuous part of the room. Mademoiselle Lupot was dressed with
amazing care. She had a new gown, her hair plaited _a la Clotilde_. All
this must make a great sensation. Ascanius was rigged out in his best;
but this did not hinder him from kicking up a dust in the room, from
getting up on the furniture, handling the cards, and taking them to make
houses; from opening the cupboards, and laying his fingers on the cakes.

Sometimes M. Lupot's patience gave way, and he cried, "Madame, I beg
you'll make your