"The mouse ran up the clock."
--_Nursery Rhyme_.

The waiter advanced slowly to FOOTLES, and handed him the letter.
FOOTLES took it meditatively, and turned it over in both hands. The
post-marks were illegible, and the envelope much crumpled. "Never
mind," thought FOOTLES, to himself, "it will dry straight--it will
dry straight." He always thought this twice, because it was one of his
favourite phrases. At last he decided to open it. As he broke the seal
a little cry was heard, and suddenly, before even EMILY had had time
to say "I nev-ah!" a charming and beautifully dressed girl, of about
fifteen summers, sprang lightly from the packet on to the mess-room
floor, and kissed her pretty little hand to the astonished Dragoons.

"You're FOOTLES," she said, skipping up to the thunder-stricken owner
of the name. "I know you very well. I'm going to be your daughter,
and you're going to marry my mother. Oh, it's all right," she
continued, as she observed FOOTLES press his right hand convulsively
to the precise spot on his gorgeous mess-waistcoat under which he
imagined his heart to be situated, "it's all right. Pa's going to
be comfortably killed, and put out of the way, and then you'll
marry darling Mamma. She'll be a thousand times more beautiful at
thirty-three than she was at twenty-two, and _ever_ so much more
lovely at fifty-five than at thirty-three. So it's a good bargain,
isn't it, EM?" This to EMILY, who appeared confused. She trotted up
to him, and laid her soft blooming cheek against his blooming hard
one. "Never mind, EM," she lisped, "everything is bound to come out
right. I've settled it all"--this with a triumphant look on her
baby-face--"with the author; such a splendid writer, none of your
twaddling women-scribblers, but a real man, and a great friend of