dition. Short curling black hair clustered
on his head; his eyes were of a humorous dark blue; his cheeks were like
red apples; his shoulders were muscular, his back was straight, his
figure slim; and he wore his night-gown as a Greek runner in ancient
times might have worn his robe after the games.

"What!" said Freddie. "Can you talk?"

"Faith," said Mr. Hanlon, "I've a tongue in me head that can wag with
anny that iver come off the blarney stone, and it's no lies I'm tellin'
ye. For an Irish gintleman to have to listen and listen, and kape his
tongue still in his head and say niver a worrd at all, at all, 'tis a
hard life, me frinds, a hard life, and it's plaised I am to be mesilf at
last, and the nate bit of tongue doin' his duty like a thrue son of
Erin--I could tell ye a swate little shtory that comes to me mind, of a
dumb Irishman that could not spake at all, at all, and the deaf wife of
him that could not hear, and their twelve pigs all lyin' down in the mud
with wan of thim standing up and crying out that the wolf was comin' in
through the gate, and the good wife unable to hear and the good man
unable to spake--"

"I reckon you've got your tongue, all right," said Toby. "I wish we had
time to hear that story, but we haven't. Now, Freddie, what do you think
we'd better--Why, Freddie! What's that you've got on your lip?"

Freddie put his hand to his upper lip. What he felt there was a tiny
silken mustache. He blushed.

"And 'e's taller than any of us except Mr. 'Anlon!" exclaimed Mr. Punch.
"My word!"

Freddie looked down at Mr. Punch, and realized his own height. He looked
at his hands, and they were almost as large as Mr. Hanlon's. His
night-gown came to his ankles, and he realized that he was no longer
holding it up.

"Why," he said, "I must be grown up!"

"Grown up is the word," said Toby, "but I'd 'a' known you anywhere.
Twenty-one years old, I should say."

"Twenty-two," said Mr. Punch.

Everyone now fell silent. The young and lovely lady, who had said
nothing during their talk, was smiling from one to another. She seemed
to feel no embarrassment nor concern, nor anything indeed but happiness.
She looked at Toby with a smile, and all the men looked at her.

"Do you know me?" she said to Toby.

"You are changed," said he, "that's a fact. But I always knew that Aunt
Amanda was like that, down deep inside of her. If she could only have
looked like what she was, that's the way she would have look