s to attract attention, and advancing a step in
front of the big easy-chair which Malachi had just pulled out for him,
raised his fingers to command silence.

All eyes were instantly turned his way. Alert and magnetic, dignified
and charming, he stood in the full glow of the overhead chandelier,
its light falling upon his snuff-brown coat with its brass buttons,
pale-yellow waistcoat, and the fluff of white silk about his throat--his
grave, thoughtful face turned toward Kate as his nearest guest, his
glance sweeping the crowded room as if to be sure that everybody was
at ease; Malachi close behind awaiting his master's orders to further
adjust the chair and reading-lamp.

In the interim of the hush Kate had settled herself at Richard's feet
on the low stool that Willits had brought, the young man standing behind
her, the two making a picture that attracted general attention; some
wondering at her choice, while others were outspoken in their admiration
of the pair who seemed so wonderfully suited to each other.

"I have a rare story," Richard began "to read to you to-night, my good
friends, one you will never forget; one, indeed, which I am sure the
world at large will never forget. I shall read it as best I can, begging
your indulgence especially in rendering the dialect parts, which, if
badly done, often mar both the pathos and humor of the text." Here he
settled himself in his chair and picked up the small volume, Malachi,
now that his service was over, tiptoeing out to his place in the hall so
as to be ready for belated arrivals.

The room grew silent. Even Mrs. Cheston, who rarely ceased talking
when she had anything to say--and she generally did have something to
say--folded her hands in her lap and settled herself in her arm-chair,
her whole attention fastened on the reader. St. George, who had been
talking to her, moved up a chair so he could watch Kate's face the
better.

Again Richard raised his voice:

"The time is of the present, and the scene is laid in one of those small
towns outside London. I shall read the whole story, omitting no word of
the text, for only then will you fully grasp the beauty of the author's
style."

He began in low, clear tones reciting the contest between the hum of
the kettle and the chirp of the cricket; the music of his voice
lending added charm to the dual song. Then there followed in constantly
increasing intensity the happy home life of bewitching Dot Perrybingle
and he