tisfied me that nothing but his sight stood in
the way of his making an audacious figure in the world. Then a pretty
little girl, Tilly Turtelle, who seemed quite a premature flirt,
proposed "Doorkeeper"--a suggestion accepted with great _eclat_ by all
the children, several grown people assenting.

To Billy--quite as much on account of his shining prominence in the
executive faculties of his character, as host--was committed the duty
of counting out the first person to be sent into the hall. There were so
many of us that "Aina-maina-mona-mike" would not go quite around;
but with that promptness of expedient which belongs to genius, Billy
instantly added on "Intery-mintery-cutery-corn," and the last word of
the cabalistic formula fell upon me, Edward Balbus. I disappeared into
the entry amid peals of happy laughter from both old and young, calling,
when the door opened again to ask me who I wanted, for the pretty,
lisping flirt who had proposed the game. After giving me a coquettish
little chirrup of a kiss and telling me my beard scratched, she bade me,
on my return, send out to her "Mither Billy Lovegrove." I obeyed her;
my youngest nephew retired and, after a couple of seconds, during which
Tilly undoubtedly got what she proposed the game for, Billy being
a great favorite with the little girls, she came back pouting and
blushing, to announce that he wanted Miss Pilgrim. The young lady
showed no mock modesty, but arose at once and laughingly went out to her
youthful admirer, who, as I afterward learned, embraced her ardently and
told her he loved her better than any girl in the world. As he turned
to go back she told him that he might send to her one of her juvenile
cousins, Reginald Rumbullion. Now, whether because on this youthful
Rumbullion's account Billy had suffered the pangs of that most terrible
passion, jealousy, or from his natural enjoyment of playing practical
jokes destructive of all dignity in his elders, Billy marched into the
room, and, having shut the door behind him, paralyzed the crowded parlor
by an announcement that Mr. Daniel Lovegrove was wanted.

I was standing at his side and could feel him' tremble--see him turn
pale.

"Dear me!" he whispered, in a choking voice; "can she mean me?"

"Of course she does," said I. "Who else? Do you hesitate? Surely you
can't refuse such an invitation from a lady."

"No; I suppose not," said he, mechanically. And, amid much laughter from
the disinterested, w