at won't do, Jim. You must do it all in one run; no pausing on the
way--but, whoop! up you go, and both feet on my head at once. Don't be
afeard; you can't tumble, you know."

"I'm not afeard, father," said Jim; "but I ain't quite springy in my
heart to-night. Stand again and see if I don't do it right off."

Cattley the elder threw himself into the required attitude; and Cattley
junior, rushed at him, ran up him as a cat runs up a tree, and in a
moment was standing on his father's head with his arms extended.
Whoop!--next moment he was turning round in the air; and whoop! in
another moment he was standing on the ground, bowing respectfully to a
supposed audience.

To Jim's immense amazement, the supposed audience applauded him
heartily; and said, "Bravyo! young 'un," as it stepped into the room, in
the person of William Willders.

"Why! who may _you_ be?" inquired the clown senior, stepping up to the
intruder.

Before Willie could answer the clown junior sprang on his father's
shoulders, and whispered in his ear. Whatever he said, the result was
an expression of benignity and condescension on the clown's face--as far
as paint would allow of such expression.

"Glad to meet you, Master Willders," he said. "Proud to know anyone
connected with T. Tippet, Esquire, who's a trump. Give us your flipper.
What may be the object of your unexpected, though welcome visit to this
this subterraneous grotto, which may be said to be next door to the
coral caves, where the mermaids dwell."

"Yes, and there's one o' the mermaids singing," remarked the clown
junior, with a comical leer, as a woman's voice was heard in violent
altercation with some one. "She's a sayin' of her prayers now;
beseechin' of her husband to let her have her own way."

Willie explained that, having had the pleasure of meeting with Jim at an
auction sale some weeks ago, he had called to renew his acquaintance;
and Jim said he remembered the incident--and that, if he was not
mistaken, a desire to see a live fairy in plain clo'se, with her wings
off, had something to do with his visit.

"Here she is;--by the way, what's your name?"

"Bill Willders."

"Here she is, Bill; this is the fairy," he said, in quite an altered
tone, as he went to the bed, and took one of his sister's thin hands in
both of his. "Ziza, this is the feller I told ye of, as wanted to see
you, dear; b'longs to Mr Tippet."

Ziza smiled faintly, as she extended her hand to Will