g persons. One of his arms is even long enough to embrace the
circumference of Miss Plym--while the other clasps the rigid silken
waist of Francine. "I do it everywhere else," he says innocently, "why
not here?" Why not indeed--with that delicate complexion and those
beautiful blue eyes; with the glorious golden hair that rests on
his shoulders, and the glossy beard that flows over his breast?
Familiarities, forbidden to mere men, become privileges and
condescensions when an angel enters society--and more especially when
that angel has enough of mortality in him to be amusing. Mr. Mirabel,
on his social side, is an irresistible companion. He is cheerfulness
itself; he takes a favorable view of everything; his sweet temper never
differs with anybody. "In my humble way," he confesses, "I like to make
the world about me brighter." Laughter (harmlessly produced, observe!)
is the element in which he lives and breathes. Miss Darnaway's serious
face puts him out; he has laid a bet with Emily--not in money, not even
in gloves, only in flowers--that he will make Miss Darnaway laugh; and
he has won the wager. Emily's flowers are in his button-hole, peeping
through the curly interstices of his beard. "Must you leave me?" he asks
tenderly, when there is a dancing man at liberty, and it is Francine's
turn to claim him. She leaves her seat not very willingly. For a while,
the place is vacant; Miss Plym seizes the opportunity of consulting the
ladies' bosom friend.

"Dear Mr. Mirabel, do tell me what you think of Miss de Sor?"

Dear Mr. Mirabel bursts into enthusiasm and makes a charming reply.
His large experience of young ladies warns him that they will tell each
other what he thinks of them, when they retire for the night; and he is
careful on these occasions to say something that will bear repetition.

"I see in Miss de Sor," he declares, "the resolution of a man, tempered
by the sweetness of a woman. When that interesting creature marries,
her husband will be--shall I use the vulgar word?--henpecked. Dear Miss
Plym, he will enjoy it; and he will be quite right too; and, if I am
asked to the wedding, I shall say, with heartfelt sincerity, Enviable
man!"

In the height of her admiration for Mr. Mirabel's wonderful eye for
character, Miss Plym is called away to the piano. Cecilia succeeds to
her friend's place--and has her waist taken in charge as a matter of
course.

"How do you like Miss Plym?" she asks directly.

Mr. Mirab