in a manner productive of some refined embarrassment to his mother.
Baron met his advance by mounting him on a shoulder and feigning to
prance an instant, so that by the time this performance was over--it
took but a few seconds--the young man felt introduced to Mrs. Ryves.
Her smile struck him as charming, and such an impression shortens
many steps. She said, "Oh, thank you--you mustn't let him worry
you"; and then as, having put down the child and raised his hat, he
was turning away, she added: "It's very good of you not to complain
of my piano."

"I particularly enjoy it--you play beautifully," said Peter Baron.

"I have to play, you see--it's all I can do. But the people next
door don't like it, though my room, you know, is not against their
wall. Therefore I thank you for letting me tell them that you, in
the house, don't find me a nuisance."

She looked gentle and bright as she spoke, and as the young man's
eyes rested on her the tolerance for which she expressed herself
indebted seemed to him the least indulgence she might count upon.
But he only laughed and said "Oh, no, you're not a nuisance!" and
felt more and more introduced.

The little boy, who was handsome, hereupon clamoured for another
ride, and she took him up herself, to moderate his transports. She
stood a moment with the child in her arms, and he put his fingers
exuberantly into her hair, so that while she smiled at Baron she
slowly, permittingly shook her head to get rid of them.

"If they really make a fuss I'm afraid I shall have to go," she went