sisted them to lay aside their
wraps.

Then led to the salon by these same nurses, the guests were presented to
Lady Hamilton and Patty. Such shouts of laughter as arose at these
presentations! The young people, dressed as tiny children, came in with a
shy air (not always entirely assumed), and made funny little, bobbing
curtseys. Some, finger in mouth, could find nothing to say; others of
more fertile brain, babbled childishly, or lisped in baby-talk.

Before many had arrived, Patty and Lady Kitty were in such roars of
laughter they could scarcely welcome the rest.

Tom Meredith was a dear. Though a boy nearly six feet tall, he had a
round, cherubic face, and soft, curly hair. He wore a white dress of
simple "Mother Hubbard" cut, the fulness hanging from a yoke, and ending
just below his knees, in lace-edged frills. White stockings, and white
kid pumps adorned his feet, and his short curls were tied at one side
with an immense white bow. He was such a smiling, good-natured chap, and
looked so girlish and sweet in his white frock, that Patty at once called
him Baby Belle, and the name exactly suited him.

"Did you come all alone?" asked Lady Hamilton.

"Yeth, ma'am," replied Tom, rolling up his eyes in pretended diffidence.
"My nurthie went to a ball game, tho I had to come all by mythelf. But
I'th a big dirl, now!"

"You are indeed," said Patty, glancing at his stalwart proportions, "but
you're surely the belle of this ball."

Grace Meredith was a little Dutch girl, and was charming in the
picturesque Holland headgear, and a tight-waisted, long-skirted blue
gown, that just cleared the tops of her clattering wooden sabots. She
talked a Dutch dialect, or rather, what she imagined was such, and if not
real Hollandese, it was at least, very amusing and funny.

Mabel Hartley looked very sweet as Little Red Riding-Hood, and she
carried a little basket on her arm, which contained a real pat of butter.

Sinclair and Bob Hartley were the Princes in the Tower, and the black
velvet suits and white lace collars were exceedingly becoming to them.
They wore wigs of long flaxen hair, and often fell into the pose of the
celebrated picture, to the delight of all who saw them. But when not
posing as a tableau, they were so full of antics that Patty told them
they were more like Court Jesters than Princes.

"Clowns, you mean," said Bob, as with a flash of his black satin legs he
leap-frogged over Sinclair's back.

"Behave yo