she sank down in it, helpless, Mrs. Merillia exclaimed, with unabated
vivacity,--

"It's happened, Hennessey, it's happened! But it was my own doin' and
yours. You shouldn't have prophesied at your age, and I shouldn't have
jumped at mine.

"Dearest grannie!" cried the Prophet, on his knees beside her, "how
grieved, how shocked I am! Is it--is it--"

"Sprained, Hennessey?"

He nodded. Mechanically Mr. Ferdinand nodded. Gustavus let his powdered
head drop, too, in imitation of his superiors.

"I'll tell you in the drawin'--room."

She placed her pretty, mittened hands upon the arms of the chair, and
gave a little wriggle, trying to get up. Then she cried out musically,--

"No, I must be carried up. Mr. Ferdinand!"

"Ma'am!"

"Is Gustavus to be trusted?"

"Trusted, ma'am!" cried Mr. Ferdinand, looking at Gustavus, who had
assumed an expression of pale and pathetic dignity. "Trusted--a London
footman! Oh, ma'am!"

His voice failed. He choked and began to rummage in the pocket of his
black tail coat for his perfumed handkerchief.

"T'st, t'st! I mean his arms," said Mrs. Merillia, patting her delicate
hands quickly on the chair. "Can he carry me?"

The countenance of Mr. Ferdinand cleared, while Gustavus eagerly
extended his right arm, bent it sharply, and allowed his magnificent
biceps to rise up in sudden majesty. Mrs. Merillia was reassured.

"Hoist me to the drawin'-room, then," she said. "Hennessey, will you
walk behind?"

The procession was formed, and the little old lady proceeded by a
succession of jerks to the upper floor, her silk gown rustling against
the balusters, and her tiny feet dangling loosely in mid-air, while
her long and elegant head nodded each time Mr. Ferdinand and Gustavus
pranced carefully sideways to a higher step. The Prophet followed
solicitously behind, with hands outstretched to check any dangerous
recoil. His face was very grave, but not entirely unhappy.

"Set me down by the fire," said Mrs. Merillia, when she found herself
being smoothly propelled through the atmosphere of the drawing-room.

The menials obeyed with breathless assiduity.

"And now bring me a sandwich, a glass of toast and water and a fan, if
you please. Yes, put the footstool well under me."

"Dearest grannie," said the Prophet, when the men had retired, "are you
in great pain?"

"No, Hennessey. Are you?"

Mrs. Merillia's green eyes twinkled.

"I!"

"Yes, at my accident. For my ankle is sprai