ou always as calm as
though 'sailing over summer seas!' Come--I am absolutely blue;' and the
half-fretful belle, who had really exhausted her strength and amiability
by a grand pedestrian tour in the Central Park that morning, stretched
out demurely her gaiter boots, and drew with an invisible pencil on
imaginary paper, the outline of her boldly arched instep.

'If Landon would only come,' sighed Fanny, musingly, counting the beads
for the eye of the Polyphemus she was embroidering on a cushion for that
gentleman's sofa meditations, 'he would entertain you, as well as
the--one--two--three--witches in Macbeth.'

'No doubt of it,' said Henrietta.

'Five blues and two blacks,' said Fanny, not heeding the reply. 'See,
girls,' and she held up the glittering orb, 'what a lovely eye!'

The enthusiasm of her audience was delirious but subdued. I caught an
occasional '_Such_ a love!' 'How sweet--how fierce!'

'Now,' said Henrietta, decidedly, 'if Medusa had but one eye, and this
dear creature two, I should die as miserably as the lady who loved the
Apollo Belvidere. I have had _oceans_ of knights errant--but _such_! I
think of writing a natural history like--Cuvier.'

'Yes,' said Bertha, quietly, 'or Peter Parley.'

'Suppose I read you the advance sheets some morning?'

'Charming,' said Fanny, with a little shrug of approaching delight.

'Mr. Landon Snowe, Miss Fanny,' said a crusty voice, and from under a
tower of white turban, Sibyl's face looked out--at the door.

'We will see him here, Sibyl,' said Fanny, brightly; 'and oh, Sibyl, ask
Mott to make a macaroon custard for dinner, for Miss Ruyter.'

'Excellent,' said that lady, again with the De Lancy Stevens air, 'I
ate--those--in--Paris. They actually flavor them there with _Haut
Brion!_ and they are delicious!' and Henrietta's lips fairly quivered at
the remembrance, that was by no means a recollection of the long-ago
enjoyed dainties.

'Such extravagance!' said Fanny, opening her eyes, and arranging sundry
little points in her attitude that were intended to be very piercing
indeed to the gentleman, whose step was now heard in the hall. 'Such
extravagance, Harry! Your father, I suppose. You'll get nothing better
than Port here. Good morning, Mr. Snowe.'

'Talking of ports, ladies,' said that gentleman, airily, after he had
prostrated himself, figuratively as well as disfiguratively, before Miss
Henrietta, bowed over Bertha's hand, and drew his chair to Fanny's