w."

"And mine too," said another, edging off. "Why, it is a perfect
_guetapens_."

Meanwhile, breaking away from the Baron, who appeared anxious to detain
him, and, failing in that attempt, turned aside, as if not to see Dick's
movements--a circumstance which did not escape the notice of the group,
and confirmed all their suspicions, Mr. Avenel, with a serious,
thoughtful air, and a slow step, approached the group. Nor did the great
Roman general more nervously "flutter the dove-cotes in Corioli," than
did the advance of the supposed X. Y. agitate the bosoms of Lord
Spendquick and his sympathizing friends. Pocket-book in hand, and
apparently feeling for something formidable within its mystic recesses,
step by step came Dick Avenel towards the fireplace. The group stood
still, fascinated by horror.

"Hum," said Mr. Avenel, clearing his throat.

"I don't like that hum, at all," muttered Spendquick.

"Proud to have made your acquaintance, gentlemen," said Dick, bowing.

The gentlemen, thus addressed, bowed low in return.

"My friend the Baron thought this not exactly the time to"--Dick stopped
a moment; you might have knocked down those four young gentlemen, though
four finer specimens of humanity no aristocracy in Europe could
produce--you might have knocked them down with a feather! "But," renewed
Avenel, not finishing his sentence, "I have made it a rule in life never
to lose securing a good opportunity; in short, to make the most of the
present moment. And," added he with a smile which froze the blood in
Lord Spendquick's veins, "the rule has made me a very warm man!
Therefore, gentlemen, allow me to present you each with one of
these"--every hand retreated behind the back of its well-born
owner--when, to the inexpressible relief of all, Dick concluded with--"a
little _soiree dansante_," and extended four cards of invitation.

"Most happy!" exclaimed Spendquick. "I don't dance in general; but to
oblige X---- I mean to have a better acquaintance, sir, with _you_--I
would dance on the tight-rope."

There was a good-humored, pleasant laugh at Lord Spendquick's
enthusiasm, and a general shaking of hands and pocketing of the
invitation cards.

"You don't look like a dancing man," said Avenel, turning to the wit,
who was plump and somewhat gouty--as wits who dine out five days in the
week generally are; "but we shall have supper at one o'clock."

Infinitely offended and disgusted, the wit replied dryly, "that e