u are right in the remark that had we
had only thirty-two States instead of thirty-four, this rebellion might
never have occurred. Had South Carolina, with its rampant Calhounism,
and Massachusetts with its anti-slavery fanaticism, both been left out
of the compact--"

"_I_ must beg pardon, now, for interrupting _you_, Mr. Wallace," said
Aunt Martha, with the calmest of voices and the smile all smoothed away
from her face. "You are mistaken again. We were neither discussing
religious nor national affairs, when you were so _kind_ as to come down
and join us." (Emphasis on the word "kind," which made the young man
wince a little and for the moment predisposed the Colonel to a chuckle.)
"Colonel Bancker was saying--"

"Really, my dear Madame," put in the Colonel, "it is scarcely necessary
to repeat--"

"Oh, we have had quite enough of misconceptions," said that estimable
lady, with what appeared to be another shot at Wallace. "Let us have the
truth at last. I had the impoliteness to ask Colonel Bancker his age,
and he had the courtesy to say that he was just turned of thirty-two."

"Ph-ph-ph-ph-ew!" came in a long whistle from the lips of the tormentor.
The Colonel sprung to his feet in an instant, and looked angrily around.
Frank Wallace was quite on the other side of the room, examining a
pastel over the mantel, and whistling very slightly, but he was
certainly whistling the serenade from "Pasquali."

"Sir!" said the Colonel, rage in the word.

"Meaning _me_?" asked Wallace, turning around.

"Was that whistle intended for _me_, sir?" demanded the Colonel,
tragically.

"Certainly not," answered Wallace. "I was directing my whistle, which is
not a good one, and certainly impolite in company--at the cornice. The
cornice is a handsome one, you will notice, Colonel, and I think by
Garvey. Those festoons of roses--"

"Mr. Wallace, you shall answer to me for this!" broke out the Colonel,
now no longer master of himself.

"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" said Aunt Martha, rising.

"Don't, Frank! for heaven's sake don't torment him any more!" plead
Emily, passing rapidly before her lover and speaking in a low tone.
Whether he understood her is a question to be settled between them at
some future time. "Don't!" is a very easy thing to say, when Niagara is
pouring or a herd of wild buffaloes sweeping down; but if the
imploration is addressed to either of the moving bodies, it may not win
quick obedience. As the human temper is