out family to
attend their balls.

"But we can expect little else, father," she would say to Mr. Carvel
nodding in his chair, "when some of our best families openly espouse the
pernicious doctrines of republicanism. They are gone half mad over that
Wilkes who should have been hung before this. Philip, dear, pour the
wine for your grandfather."

Miss Patty had been well received. I took her to her first assembly,
where her simple and unassuming ways had made her an instant favourite;
and her face, which had the beauty of dignity and repose even so early in
life, gained her ample attention. I think she would have gone but little
had not her father laughed her out of some of her domesticity. No longer
at Sunday night supper in Gloucester Street was the guest seat empty.
There was more than one guest seat now, and the honest barrister himself
was the most pleased at the change. As I took my accustomed place on the
settle cushion,--Patty's first embroidery,--he would cry:

"Heigho, Richard, our little Miss Prim hath become a belle. And I must
have another clerk now to copy out my briefs, and a housekeeper soon, i'
faith."

Patty would never fail to flush up at the words, and run to perch on her
father's knee and put her hand over his mouth.

"How can you, Mr. Swain?" says she; "how can you, when 'tis you and
mother, and Richard here, who make me go into the world? You know I
would a thousand times rather bake your cakes and clean your silver!
But you will not hear of it."

"Fie!" says the barrister. "Listen to her, Richard! And yet she will
fly up the stairs to don a fine gown at the first rap of the knocker.
Oh, the wenches, the wenches! Are they not all alike, mother?"

"They have changed none since I was a lass," replies the quiet invalid,
with a smile. "And you should know what I was, Henry."

"I know!" cries he; "none better. Well I recall the salmon and white
your mother gave you before I came to Salem." He sighed and then laughed
at the recollection. "And when this strapping young Singleton comes,
Richard, 'twould do you good to be hiding there in that cupboard,--and it
would hold you,--and count the seconds until Miss Prim has her skirt in
her hand and her foot on the lower step. And yet how innocent is she now
before you and me."

Here he would invariably be smothered.

"Percy Singleton!" says Patty, with a fine scorn; "'twill be Mr.
Eglinton, the curate, next."

"This I know," says her father, slappin