peril.

Like a clover-blossom in a vase of camellias little Debby looked that
night among the dashing or languid women who surrounded her; for she
possessed the charm they had lost,--the freshness of her youth.
Innocent gayety sat smiling in her eyes, healthful roses bloomed upon
her cheek, and maiden modesty crowned her like a garland. She was the
creature that she seemed, and, yielding to the influence of the hour,
danced to the music of her own blithe heart. Many felt the spell whose
secret they had lost the power to divine, and watched the girlish
figure as if it were a symbol of their early aspirations dawning
freshly from the dimness of their past. More than one old man thought
again of some little maid whose love made his boyish days a pleasant
memory to him now. More than one smiling fop felt the emptiness of his
smooth speech, when the truthful eyes looked up into his own; and more
than one pale woman sighed regretfully with herself, "I, too, was a
happy-hearted creature once!"

"That Mr. Evan does not seem very anxious to claim our acquaintance,
after all, and I think better of him on that account. Has he spoken to
you to-night, Dora?" asked Mrs. Carroll, as Debby dropped down beside
her after a "splendid polka."

"No, ma'am, he only bowed. You see some people are not so presuming as
other people thought they were; for we are not the most attractive
beings on the planet; therefore a gentleman can be polite and then
forget us without breaking any of the Ten Commandments. Don't be
offended with him yet, for he may prove to be some great creature with
a finer pedigree than any of your first families.' Mr. Leavenworth, as
you know everybody, perhaps you can relieve Aunt Pen's mind, by telling
her something about the tall, brown man standing behind the lady with
salmon-colored hair."

Mr. Joe, who was fanning the top of Debby's head with the best
intentions in life, took a survey, and answered readily,--

"Why, that's Frank Evan. I know him, and a deused good fellow he
is,--though he don't belong to our set, you know."

"Indeed! pray, tell us something about him, Mr. Leavenworth. We met in
the cars, and he did us a favor or two. Who and what is the man?"
asked Mrs. Carroll, relenting at once toward a person who was favorably
spoken of by one who did belong to her "set."

"Well, let me see," began Mr. Joe, whose narrative powers were not
great. "He is a bookkeeper in my Uncle Josh Loring's importing c