always suavity itself to us, when we have guests; but, when one is not
in the habit of being treated with affability, it is difficult to enter
into the spirit of the joke. Several times I catch our guest's frank
eyes, watching me with inquiring wonder, as I respond with brief and
low-voiced hurry to some of my parent's friendly and fatherly queries as
to the disposition of my day. And I sit tongue-tied and hungry--for,
thank God, I have always had a large appetite--dumb as the butler and
footman--dumb as the racing-cups on the sideboard--dumber than Vick,
who, being a privileged person, is standing--very tall--on her
hind-legs, and pawing Sir Roger's coat-sleeve, with a small, impatient
whine.

"Why, Nancy, child!" says father, helping himself to sweetbread, and
smiling, "what made you in such a hurry to get away this morning out of
the park?"

(Why can't he always speak in that voice? always smile?--even his nose
looks a different shape.)

"Near--luncheon-time," reply I, indistinctly, with my head bent so low
that my nose nearly touches the little square of bare neck that my
muslin frock leaves exposed.

"Not a bit of it--half an hour off.--Why, Roger, I am afraid you had not
been making yourself agreeable! eh, Nancy?"

"No," say I, mumbling, "that is--yes--quite so."

"I was _very_ agreeable, as it happened--rather more brilliant than
usual, if possible, was not I? And, to clear my character, and prove