moth round the candle.

"No, really, I can't."

"Yes you can," from Dan McCoy, who is on the alert; "I see your piercin'
black eyes comin' right through the hankitchif."

"Get along, then," cries Adams, twirling Sally round, and skipping out
of the way.

It is not the first time the women have played at that game, and their
short garments, reaching little below the knees, seem admirably adapted
to it, while they glide about with motions little less easy and agile
than those of the children, and cause the roof to ring with laughter at
the various misadventures that occur.

Mrs Adams, however, does not join. Besides being considerably older
than her husband, that good woman has become prematurely short-sighted
and deaf. This being so, she sits in a corner, not inappropriately, to
act the part of grandmother to the players, and to serve as an
occasional buffer to such of the children as are hurled against her.

Now, Otaheitan Sally, having gone rather cautiously about without
catching any one except Charlie--whom she pretends not to know, examines
from head to foot, and then guesses wrong on purpose--becomes suddenly
wild, makes a desperate lunge, as she thinks, at Dan McCoy, and tumbles
into Mrs Adams's lap, amid shouts of delight.

Of course Dan brought about this incident by wise forethought. His next
success is unpremeditated. Making a pull at Sally's skirt, he glides
quickly out of her way as she wheels round, and hits Mainmast an
unintentional backhander on the nose. This is received by Mainmast with
a little scream, and by the children with an "Oh! o-o" of consternation,
while Sally, pulling down the handkerchief, hastens to give needless
assurance that she is "_so_ vexed," etcetera. Susannah joins her in
condoling, and so does widow Martin; but Mainmast, with tears in her
eyes, (drawn by the blow), and a smile on her lips, declares that she
"don't care a button." Sally is therefore blindfolded again. She
catches Charlie Christian immediately, and feeling that there is no
other way of escaping from him, names him.

Then Charlie, being blindfolded, sets to work with one solitary end in
view, namely, to capture Sally. The injustice to the others of this
proceeding never enters his innocent mind. He hears no voice but
Sally's; he clutches at nobody but Sally. When he is compelled to lay
hold of any one else, he guesses wrong, not on purpose, but because he
is thinking of Sally. Perceiving this, S