e," said he, jerkily, "I should bring my
patients to see you"; at which Miss Pix nodded to him most vehemently,
and the Doctor wagged his ear-trumpet in delight at the retort which he
thought he had made.

Mr. Le Clear was introduced, and took his cake gracefully, saying, "I
hope another year will see you at a Christmas-party of Miss Pix's"; but
Mrs. Blake smiled, and said, "This is my little lot of earth, and I am
sure there is a patch of stars above."

Mr. Manlius and wife came up together, he somewhat lumbering, as if Mrs.
Blake's character were too much for his discernment, and Mrs. Manlius
not quite sure of herself when her husband seemed embarrassed.

"This is really too funny," said Mrs. Blake, merrily; "as if I were a
very benevolent person, doling out my charity of cake on Christmas-eve.
Do, Mr. Manlius, take a large piece; and I am sure your wife will take
some home to the children."

"What wonderful insight!" said Mr. Manlius, turning about to Nicholas,
and drawing in his breath. "We have children,--two. That woman has a
deep character, Mr. Judge."

"Mrs. Starkey, also of Number Three," said the mistress of ceremonies;
"and Mr. Nicholas Judge, arrived only this evening."

"Nicholas Judge!" said Mrs. Blake, losing the color which the excitement
had brought, and dropping the knife.

"My nephew," explained Mrs. Starkey. "Just came this evening, and found
me at home. Never saw him before. Must tell you all about it." And she
was plunging with alacrity into the delightful subject, with all its
variations.

Mrs. Blake looked at Nicholas, while the color came and went in her
cheeks.

"Stop!" said she, decisively, to Mrs. Starkey, and half rising, she
leaned forward to Nicholas, and said rapidly, with an energy which
seemed to be summoned from every part of her system,--

"Are you the son of Alice Brown?"

"Yes, yes," said Nicholas, tumultuously; "and you,--you are her sister.
Here, take this miniature"; and he snatched one from his breast. "Is not
this she? It is my mother. You are my Aunt Eunice," he exclaimed, as she
sank back in her chair exhausted, but reaching out her arms to him.

"That young man is a base impostor!" said Mr. Manlius aloud, with his
hand in his waistcoat; while Mrs. Manlius looked on deprecatingly, but
as if too, too aware of the sad fact. "I said so to my wife in
private,--I read it in his face,--and now I declare it publicly. That
man is a base impostor!"

"Dear, dear, I don