ng over her tambour on the other, his mood changed and he
grew talkative enough, while I sat down near the candles and pretended to
be absorbed in a book.

"Do you know, ladies," he said, "this reminds me of nothing so much as a
night in London just five years ago, when the great earthquake was. We
were sitting around the fire, just as we are siting now, Tommy Collier on
my right, and Harry Sibley on my left, when the bottles on the table
began to clink and the windows to rattle, and poor Harry, who was leaning
back in his chair, crashed over backwards to the floor. We picked him up
and went out into the street, where there was confusion worse confounded.
Windows were thrown open, women were running up and down clad only in
their smocks, and one fellow had mounted a barrel and was calling on the
people to repent because the Day of Judgment was at hand. Somebody
predicted there would be another earthquake in a week, and so the next
day the people began to pour out of town, not because they were
frightened, but 'Lord, the weather is so fine,' they said, 'one can't
help going into the country.'"

"You found the country very pleasant, Mr. Newton, I dare say," I
remarked, looking up from my book. He did not at once understand the
meaning of my question, but Dorothy did, and flushed crimson with
anger. The sight of her disapproval and Madame Stewart's frowning face
maddened me.

"No," he said slowly, after a moment, "I did not leave the city, but
hundreds of people did. Within three days, over seven hundred coaches
were counted passing Hyde Park corner, with whole families going to the
country. The clergy preached that it was judgment on London for its
wickedness, and that the next earthquake would swallow up the whole town.
The ridotto had to be put off because there was no one to attend it, and
the women who remained in town spent their time between reading
Sherlock's sermons and making earthquake gowns, in which they proposed to
sit out of doors all night."

"Pray, what was the color of your gown, Mr. Newton?" I inquired, with a
polite show of interest.

Newton rose slowly from his chair and came toward me.

"Am I to understand that you mean to insult me, sir?" he asked, when he
had got quite near.

"You are to understand whatever you please," I answered hotly, throwing
my book upon the table.

"Tom," cried Dorothy, "for shame, sir! Have you taken leave of
your senses?"

"Do not be frightened, I beg of you, Mis