very child provided with a biscuit,
Mrs. Watkinson said to Mrs. Morland: "Now, ma'am, you shall have some
music from my daughter Jane, who is one of Mr. Bangwhanger's best
scholars."

Jane Watkinson sat down to the piano and commenced a powerful piece of
six mortal pages, which she played out of time and out of tune; but
with tremendous force of hands; notwithstanding which, it had,
however, the good effect of putting most of the children to sleep.

To the Morlands the evening had seemed already five hours long. Still
it was only half past ten when Jane was in the midst of her piece. The
guests had all tacitly determined that it would be best not to let
Mrs. Watkinson know their intention to go directly from her house to
Mrs. St. Leonard's party; and the arrival of their carriage would have
been the signal of departure, even if Jane's piece had not reached its
termination. They stole glances at the clock on the mantel. It wanted
but a quarter of eleven, when Jane rose from the piano, and was
congratulated by her mother on the excellence of her music. Still no
carriage was heard to stop; no doorbell was heard to ring. Mrs.
Morland expressed her fears that the coachman had forgotten to come
for them.

"Has he been paid for bringing you here?" asked Mrs. Watkinson.

"I paid him when we came to the door," said Edward. "I thought perhaps
he might want the money for some purpose before he came for us."

"That was very kind in you, sir," said Mrs. Watkinson, "but not very
wise. There's no dependence on any coachman; and perhaps as he may be
sure of business enough this rainy night he may never come at
all--being already paid for bringing you here."

Now, the truth was that the coachman _had_ come at the appointed time,
but the noise of Jane's piano had prevented his arrival being heard in
the back parlor. The Irish girl had gone to the door when he rang the
bell, and recognized in him what she called "an ould friend." Just
then a lady and gentleman who had been caught in the rain came running
along, and seeing a carriage drawing up at a door, the gentleman
inquired of the driver if he could not take them to Rutgers Place. The
driver replied that he had just come for two ladies and a gentleman
whom he had brought from the Astor House.

"Indeed and Patrick," said the girl who stood at the door, "if I was
you I'd be after making another penny to-night. Miss Jane is pounding
away at one of her long music pieces, and it won