ere all going the same evening.

Joe had meant to hear him. He was fond of hearing and seeing notable
people, and kept his mind freshened up with all that was going on in the
great world.

Hanny was delighted, of course, though the fact of listening with Daisy
beside her added a great deal. They had an enthusiastic, rather
school-girlish friendship. Daisy's mind was, of course, the more
experienced. But with youthful fervor they were training themselves into
perfect accord, _en rapport_, so they could look at each other and
understand.

There was a really fine audience. And when the large, burly,
broad-chested Englishman stepped on the platform, he had a cordial and
enthusiastic welcome.

This evening he was at his best. His manner was clear and engaging; he
moved his audience to tears and smiles. There was satire and tenderness
and the marvellous insight that made him absolutely personify the
writers he touched upon. The audience was charmed.

Hanny could not decide upon him. She was being won against her will,
rather her preconceived notions; and yet her first feelings about him
would return to disturb her. Mr. and Mrs. Jasper were delighted beyond
expression; Joe was deeply interested, though he confessed he did not
know Thackeray as he ought. He had read only one or two of the novels
and the "Yellowplush Papers."

"I am going to read 'Vanity Fair' over again," said Hanny, when they
reached home. "I didn't like it, really and truly."

"You are hardly old enough to enjoy such things," returned Joe. "Even I
have not made up my mind, and I know I would not have liked them at
seventeen. We believe in heroes and great deeds then, and the
possibilities of life look grander to us than they do afterward. I
suppose it is right that we should want to be _pleased_ then."

Hanny felt that she wanted to be pleased with a story, or else very
sorry for the misfortunes that no human power could seem to avert. But
when mean and shallow and selfish people caused their own trials, were
they worthy of sympathy?

They talked at school with the wide diversity of crude, girlish
opinions. The papers were full of him as well.

Ben was one of his enthusiastic admirers. And now they planned to give a
banquet,--printers and newspaper-men,--and Mr. Thackeray was to be the
guest of the occasion; there was to be a dinner, with some of the bright
literary lights, music, and dancing,--a really grand affair. Theodore
Whitney was on the c