emerald pin of mine,--brought me a bit of glass that had been nicked
out of my large custard dish, and asked me if that was not
Mrs. Croesus's diamond. I told him no, and gave him a gold dollar for
his honesty. John is an invaluable servant; he is so guileless.

_Do you know I am not so sure about Mrs. Croesus's diamond!_

Mr. P. made a great howling about the ball. But it was very foolish,
for he got safely to bed by six o'clock, and he need have no trouble
about replacing the curtains, and glass, etc. I shall do all that, and
the sum total will be sent to him in a lump, so that he can pay it.

Men are so unreasonable. Fancy us at seven o'clock that morning, when
I retired. He wasn't asleep. But whose fault was that?

"Polly," said he, "that's the last."

"Last what?" said I.

"Last ball at my house," said he.

"Fiddle-dee-dee," said I.

"I tell you, Mrs. Potiphar, I am not going to open my house for a
crowd of people who don't go away till daylight; who spoil my books
and furniture; involve me in a foolish expense; for a gang of rowdy
boys, who drink my Margaux, and Lafitte, and Marcobrunner, (what kind
of drinks are those, dear Caroline?) and who don't know Chambertin
from liquorice-water,--for a swarm of persons few of whom we know
fewer, still care for me, and to whom I am only 'Old Potiphar,' the