with this emphatic declaration, she kissed a little shoe of Thelma's
that she was just putting by--and, smoothing her curls, went down to her
supper.

CHAPTER XX.

"Such people there are living and flourishing in the
world,--Faithless, Hopeless, Charityless,--let us have at them,
dear friends, with might and main!"--THACKERAY.

Who can adequately describe the thrilling excitement attending an
aristocratic "crush,"--an extensive, sweeping-off-of-old-cores "at
home,"--that scene of bewildering confusion which might be appropriately
set forth to the minds of the vulgar in the once-popular ditty, "Such a
getting-up-stairs I never did see!" Who can paint in sufficiently
brilliant colors the mere _outside_ of a house thus distinguished by
this strange festivity, in which there is no actual pleasure,--this
crowding of carriages--this shouting of small boys and policemen?--who
can, in words, delineate the various phases of lofty indignation and
offense on the countenances of pompous coachmen, forced into contention
with vulgar but good-natured "cabbys"--for right of way? . . . who can
sufficiently set forth the splendors of a striped awning avenue, lined
on both sides with a collection of tropical verdure, hired for the
occasion at so much per dozen pots, and illuminated with Chinese
lanterns! Talk of orange groves in Italy and the languid light of a
southern moon! What are they compared to the marvels of striped awning?
Mere trees--mere moonlight--(poor products of Nature!) do not excite
either wonder or envy--but, strange to say, an awning avenue invariably
does! As soon as it is erected in all its bland suggestiveness, no
matter at what house, a small crowd of street-arabs and nursemaids
collect to stare at it,--and when tired of staring, pass and repass
under it with peculiar satisfaction; the beggar, starving for a crust,
lingers doubtfully near it, and ventures to inquire of the
influenza-smitten crossing-sweeper whether it is a wedding or a party?
And if Awning Avenue means matrimony, the beggar waits to see the guests
come out; if, on the contrary, it stands for some evening festivity, he
goes, resolving to return at the appointed hour, and try if he cannot
persuade one "swell" at least to throw him a penny for his night's
supper. Yes--a great many people endure sharp twinges of discontent at
the sight of Awning Avenue,--people who can't afford to give parties,
and who wish they could,--pretty, swee