feel his presence as a kind of sunshine.

Of course, such being the character of Mr. Jonas Bebee, it may
readily be inferred that he is very likely to commit an occasional
mistake, and blunder, though unconsciously, into the commission of
acts most terribly annoying to others. His evening calls upon ladies
generally produce a marked effect upon those specially selected for
the favor. The character of the effect will appear in the following
little scene, which we briefly sketch--

"Gentleman in the parlor," says a servant coming into a room where
two or three young ladies sit sewing or reading.

"Who is he?" is the natural inquiry.

"Mr. Bebee."

"Goodness!"

"Say we are not at home, Kitty."

"No--no, Kitty, you mustn't say that," interposes one. "Tell him the
ladies will be down in a little while."

Kitty accordingly retires.

"I'm not going down," says one, more self willed and independent
than the rest.

"You've as much right to be annoyed with him as we have," is replied
to this.

"I don't care."

"I wish he'd stay away from here. Nobody wants him."

"He's after you, Aggy."

"After me!" replied Agnes. "Goodness knows I don't want him. I hate
the very sight of him!"

"It's no use fretting ourselves over the annoyance, we've got to
endure it," says one of the young ladies. "So, come, let's put on
the best face possible."

"You can go, Cara, if you choose, but I'm in no hurry; nor will he
be in any haste to go. Say to him that I'll be along in the course
of half an hour."

"No, you must all make your own apologies."

In the meantime Mr. Bebee patiently awaits the arrival of the
ladies, who make their appearance, one after the other, some time
during the next half hour. He compliments them, asks them to sing
and play, and leads the conversation until towards eleven o'clock,
when he retires in the best possible humor with himself and the
interesting young ladies favored with his presence. He has not even
a distant suspicion of the real truth, that his visit was considered
an almost unendurable infliction.

Mr. Bebee's morning calls are often more unwelcome. He walks in, as
a matter of course, takes his seat in the parlor, and sends up his
name by the servant. If told that the lady is not at home, a
suspicion that it may not be so does not cross his mind; for he
cannot imagine it possible that any one would make such an excuse in
order to avoid seeing _him_. Should the lady not be willing to ut