Ella Black." So it
went, all down the smiling, giggling circle, as he promptly forgot each
name in the presence of a new beauty.

He joined the boys with a sigh of relief. They stood in an awkward group
near the piano, and grinned and poked each other furtively in the ribs,
and made mocking allusions to half-known juvenile love affairs until
Mrs. Martin reentered with Louise.

The little girl had never appeared so daintily bewitching to John; no,
not even on that memorable first day at school. Her long, graceful curls
were caught in a big, blue silk bow which matched her dress, and her
eyes were a-dance with the excitement of her first party. She greeted
the company with a shy, quick smile and sat down in the chair nearest
her exultant worshiper. A constrained silence took possession of the
little gathering again.

If the children were to enjoy themselves at all, something must be done
to put them at their ease. Mrs. Martin clapped her hands loudly.

"Who likes 'Musical chairs'?" she asked.

The little girls applauded vociferously. The boys, as became members of
the more reserved sex, nodded condescendingly. While not as exciting as
wrestling, or "Run, sheep, run," the game would pass the time away. In a
moment they were sent flying to the different rooms in the flat after
straight chairs of all sizes and descriptions, while Mrs. Martin
supervised the formation of the long line which extended into the hall.

"Now," said she, as she stepped over to the piano, "is there anyone who
doesn't know how to play this game?"

No fear of kill-joy amateurs with "Musical chairs." The children had
become experts at the pastime through other parties innumerable. She
seated herself at the instrument and ran her fingers over the keys.

Slowly the procession started. Little girls lingered as long as possible
by each inviting seat. Boys scurried past the chairs facing in the
opposite direction, or slid around the treacherous ends lest they be
caught. Still the waltz strains swung onward until they seemed eternal
to the anxious players. Then a false note, another, a pause, and a wild
scramble for safety. Bashful maidens sat on trousered knees and
scrambled up after still vacant places. Other players squabbled for the
possession of contested chairs. At last the babel died away, and another
cry arose:

"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny Fletcher's out of it."

It was always the way; he was ever too reluctant to dispossess a girl of
a nearly