gentleman opposite, who certainly does not look very grateful for the
unexpected gift.

Every one, of course, has seen the awkward accident. O no! That
pretty, animated girl upon the sofa is much too pleasantly engaged,
that is evident, to be watching her neighbors. Playing carelessly with
her fan, and casting many sparkling glances upward at the two
gentlemen who are vying with each other in their gallant attentions,
she has enough to do without noticing other people. She is happily
unconscious of the mortification which is in store for her, or
wilfully shuts her eyes to the peril. Alas! Her hand is resting, even
now, upon the destroyer of all her present enjoyment, the beautiful,
fragrant, treacherous peach. With a nonchalance really shocking to the
anxious beholder, she raises it, and breaks it open, talking the
while, and scarcely bestowing a thought upon what she is about.
Dexterously done; but--O luckless maiden!--the fruit is ripe, and
rich, and juicy, and the running drops fall, not into her plate, but
upon the delicate folds of her dress.

The merry repartee dies away upon her lips, as she becomes conscious
of the catastrophe. It is with a forced smile that she declares, "It
is nothing; O, not of the slightest consequence!" That unlucky peach!
How many blunders, how many pauses, how many absent-minded remarks it
occasions! She makes the most frenzied attempts to regain her former
gayety, but in vain. Her gloves are stained and sticky with the
flowing juice, and she is oppressed by the conviction that all her
partners for the rest of the evening will hate her most heartily. An
expression of real vexation steals over her pretty face, and she gives
up her plate to one of the attendant beaux, with not so much as a wish
that he will return to her. Where are the arch smiles, the lively