The shrieks of that youth, usually so self-contained, rent the ambient
air.

"Father, _father!_" he howled, literally dancing up and down in his
anguish, "you're sitting on Lily Bell!" Then, at the height of the
uproar, he stopped short, an expression of overwhelming relief
covering his face. "Oh no, you ain't, either," he cried, ecstatically.
"She jumped out. But she won't go now, so neither will I"; and he
promptly joined his imaginary playmate in the road. Pausing there, he
gave his abashed parent a glance of indescribable reproach and a
helpful hint on etiquette.

"Don't you know," he asked, stonily, "that gentlemen don't _never_ sit
on ladies?" Striding gloomily back to the house, presumably close by
the side of the outraged maiden, he left his convulsed parent to
survive as best he could the deprivation of their presence. This Mr.
Prescott did with reluctance. He was beginning to find the society of
his son and Lily Bell both interesting and exhilarating. He showed, in
fact, a surprising understanding of and sympathy with "the love-
affair," as he called it. "The poor little beggar had to have
something," he said, indulgently, "and an imaginary play-mate is as
safe as anything I know." Therefore he referred to Miss Bell
respectfully in conversation with his son, and, save on the tragic
occasion just chronicled, treated her with distinguished
consideration.

His wife's acceptance of the situation was less felicitous. Mrs.
Prescott, whose utter lack of a sense of humor had long saddened her
domestic circle, suddenly felt the birth of one now that was even more
saddening, and the cause of it was Lily Bell. She referred to that