propensity of things to
cool.

Undaunted by the urn, Mr. Stanwood said, with humorous wistfulness, but
looking at Nattie,

"You won't force us to eat the dishes, will you? and that steak smells
so nice, and I haven't had any dinner!"

"Then away with ceremony and sit down to the banquet!" said the reckless
Cyn, regardless of the protest in Nattie's face; and truth to tell, the
former young lady was not at all averse to this addition to their
number.

And to the consternation of Quimby, and dismay of Nattie, and possibly a
little to the surprise of Cyn, Mr. Stanwood replied by seating himself
down in a rocking-chair, and saying gayly,

"I feel positive that I am about to enjoy myself as I have not since I
was a boy, and stole eggs, and cooked them on a flat rock behind my
uncle's barn, and had raw turnip for dessert. Sit down, Quimby!"

Upon this Quimby, with a blushing protest against an intrusion, that did
not seem to trouble his merry friend in the least, also sat down.

As he did so, Nattie screamed; but too late. On the crowning glory of
the feast, on those enticing Charlotte Russes, crowded from the table on
to a chair, there was Quimby!

"Bless my soul! what is the matter?" he asked, staring astounded at
Nattie's scream, but still sitting there, entirely of the
ruin he had wrought.

Cyn's anguish knew no bounds, as she saw what had happened.

"Get up!" she cried, wringing her hands, "can't you get up? good
gracious! don't you know what you are sitting on?"

"Eh?" he queried, rising obediently, and looking at her with a blank
expression. "Sitting on?" then following her frantic gesture, he turned
and looked at the chair behind him, and instantly horror overspread his
countenance.

"Bless my soul!" he gasped, turning round and round, trying to get a
glimpse of his own coat-tails. "How did it come there? what is it?"

"It is--_was Charlotte Russe!_" said Nattie, in gloomy despair.

"_Charlotte Russe!_" echoed Quimby, still turning himself around like a
revolving light. "It--it don't look much like it, you know!"

At this, Mr. Stanwood, who had with difficulty suppressed his laughter
until now, burst into an uncontrollable roar, in which he was joined by
Cyn, and then by Nattie. They laughed until utterly exhausted, Quimby
all the time keeping up his rotatory motion, with a face whose
lugubriousness cannot be described.

"I--I--bless my soul! I will replace what I have destroyed! I--I assure
you,