knows how to treat such difficulties, if they
deserve the name. But we are delaying too long. Mamma! to your post,
while I, in the library, establish a strict blockade over papa."

With these words Miss Kennyfeck waved her hand affectedly in adieu,
and led her mother from the room; while Olivia, after a second's pause,
arose and arrayed more smoothly the silky tresses of her hair before the
glass.

We have once already, in this veracious narrative, been ungallant enough
to peep at this young lady, and coolly watch her strategy before the
enemy. We will not repeat the offence, nor linger to mark how, as she
walked the room, she stopped from time to time before the mirror to gaze
on charms which expectancy had already heightened; in fact, we will
quit the chamber with Mrs. Kennyfeck and her elder daughter, and as the
choice is permitted which to follow, we select the latter.

"Here 's Miss Kennyfeck, by Jove!" cried Jennings, as she crossed the
hall. "We have all been dying to see you; pray come here and give us
your counsel." And he led her into a small drawing-room, where,
around a table covered with prints and colored drawings of costume, a
considerable number of the guests were assembled.

"For mercy's sake, nothing out of the Waverley novels!" said the blond
lady. "I am wearied of seeing the Jewess Rebecca wherever I go."

"Well, I'll be Diana Vernon, I know that," said Miss Meek; "you may all
choose how you please."

"But you can't be, my love, if we have the 'Midsummer Night's Dream,'"
said Mrs. White.

"Why can't I, if Charley takes Osbaldiston?" said she.

"Because they are not characters of the piece."

"Nobody cares for character in a masquerade!" said Linton.

"Or if they have any, they put a mask over it," said Lady Janet

"I vote that we are all Tyrolese peasanths," lisped the fat and dumpy
Mrs. Malone. "It's a most picthuresque costhume."

"What will you be, Sir Andrew?" cried another, as the old general passed
the door in a dog-trot, with Flint behind him.

"By me saul! I thenk I'll be the Wanderin' Jew!" cried he, wiping the
perspiration off his forehead.

"You hear that, Lady Janet?" said Linton, roguishly. "Sir Andrew intends
to live forever."

"So that I don't, sir, I can't complain," said she, with a tartness
quite electric.

"I incline to leave the choice of each free," said Miss Kennyfeck, as
she tossed over the drawings. "When you select a story, there are always
a certain numb