her day, when somebody--a little
bird--brought us another story about you; about a game at cards on
Sunday morning, when you and a friend of yours might have been better
employed." And here there was a look of mingled humour and reproof at
the clergyman.

"Faith, I own it, sir!" says the chaplain. "It was mea culpa, mea
maxima--no, mea minima culpa, only the rehearsal of an old game at
piquet, which we had been talking over."

"And did Miss Hester stand up for me?" says Harry.

"Miss Hester did. But why that wondering look?" asks the Colonel.

"She scolded me last night like--like anything," says downright Harry.
"I never heard a young girl go on so. She made fun of everybody--hit
about at young and old--so that I couldn't help telling her, sir, that
in our country, leastways in Virginia (they say the Yankees are very
pert), young people don't speak of their elders so. And, do you know,
sir, we had a sort of a quarrel, and I'm very glad you've told me she
spoke kindly of me," says Harry, shaking his friend's hand, a ready
boyish emotion glowing in his cheeks and in his eyes.

"You won't come to much hurt if you find no worse enemy than Hester, Mr.
Warrington," said the girl's father, gravely, looking not without a
deep thrill of interest at the flushed face and moist eyes of his young
friend. "Is he fond of her?" thought the Colonel. "And how fond? 'Tis
evident he knows nothing, and Miss Het has been performing some of
her tricks. He is a fine, honest lad, and God bless him!" And Colonel
Lambert looked towards Harry with that manly, friendly kindness which
our lucky young Virginian was not unaccustomed to inspire, for he was
comely to look at, prone to blush, to kindle, nay, to melt, at a kind
story. His laughter was cheery to hear: his eyes shone confidently: his
voice spoke truth.

"And the young lady of the minuet? She distinguished herself to
perfection: the whole room admired," asked the courtly chaplain. "I
trust Miss--Miss----"

"Miss Theodosia is perfectly well, and ready to dance at this minute
with your reverence," says her father. "Or stay, Chaplain, perhaps you
only dance on Sunday?" The Colonel then turned to Harry again. "You
paid your court very neatly to the great lady, Mr. Flatterer. My Lady
Yarmouth has been trumpeting your praises at the Pump Room. She says
she has got a leedel boy in Hannover dat is wery like you, and you are a
sharming young mans."

"If her ladyship were a queen, people co