flowers that nodded
over it.

Mrs. Kingfisher's friendship for Miss Wayne and her charming aunt
consisted in two pieces of pasteboard, on which was printed, in German
text, "Mrs. Theodore Kingfisher, St. John's Square," which she had left
during the winter; and her pleasure at seeing her was genuine--not that
she expected they would solace each other's souls with friendly
intercourse, but that she knew Hope to be a famous beauty who had held
herself retired until now at the very end of the season, when she
appeared for the first time at her ball.

This reflection secured an unusually ardent reception for Mrs. Dagon, who
followed Mrs. Dinks's party, and who, having made her salutation to the
hostess, said to Mr. Boniface Newt, her nephew, who accompanied her,

"Now I'll go and stand by the pier-glass, so that I can rake the rooms.
And, Boniface, mind, I depend upon your getting me some lobster salad at
supper, with plenty of dressing--mind, now, plenty of dressing."

Perched like a contemplative vulture by the pier, Mrs. Dagon declined
chairs and sofas, but put her eye-glass to her eyes to spy out the land.
She had arrived upon the scene of action early. She always did.

"I want to see every body come in. There's a great deal in watching how
people speak to each other. I've found out a great many things in that
way, my dear, which were not suspected."

Presently a glass at the other end of the room that was bobbing up
and down and about at everybody and thing--at the ceiling, and the
wall, and the carpet--discovering the rouge upon cheeks whose ruddy
freshness charmed less perceptive eyes--reducing the prettiest lace
to the smallest terms in substance and price--detecting base cotton with
one fell glance, and the part of the old dress ingeniously furbished to
do duty as new--this philosophic and critical glass presently encountered
Mrs. Dagon's in mid-career. The two ladies behind the glasses glared at
each other for a moment, then bowed and nodded, like two Chinese idols
set up on end at each extremity of the room.

"Good-evening, dear, good Mrs. Winslow Orry," said the smiling eyes of
Mrs. Dagon to that lady. "How doubly scraggy you look in that worn-out
old sea-green satin!" said the smiling old lady to herself.

"How do, darling Mrs. Dagon?" said the responsive glance of Mrs. Orry,
with the most gracious effulgence of aspect, as she glared across the
room--inwardly thinking, "What a silly old hag to lug that