know
what a favorite of mine little Louie Berton is--the best little thing
that ever breathed, the prettiest, the--full of fun, too. Well, we're
awfully thick, you know; and she chaffed me all the evening about my
engagement with Miss Phillips. She had heard all about it, and is crazy
to find out whether it's going on yet or not. We had great fun--she
chaffing and questioning, and I trying to fight her off. Well; the
dancing was going on, and I'd been separated from her for some time,
and was trying to find her again, and I saw some one standing in a
recess of one of the windows, with a dress that was exactly like
Louie's. Her back was turned to me, and the curtains half concealed
her. I felt sure that it was Louie. So I sauntered up, and stood for a
moment or two behind her. She was looking out of the window; one hand
was on the ledge, and the other was by her side, half behind her. I
don't know what got into me; but I seized her hand, and gave it a
gentle squeeze.

"Well, you know, I expected that it would be snatched away at once. I
felt immediately an awful horror at my indiscretion, and would have
given the world not to have done it. I expected to see Louie's flashing
eyes hurling indignant fire at me, and all that. But the hand didn't
move from mine at all!"

Jack uttered this last sentence with the doleful accents of a
deeply-injured man--such an accent as one would employ in telling of a
shameful trick practised upon his innocence. "It lay in mine," he
continued. "There it was; I had seized it; I had it; I held it; I had
squeezed it; and--good Lord!--Macrorie, what was I to do? I'll tell you
what I did--I squeezed it again. I thought that now it would go; but it
wouldn't. Well, I tried it again. No go. Once more--and once again. On
my soul, Macrorie, it still lay in mine. I cannot tell you what
thoughts I had. It seemed like indelicacy. It was a bitter thing to
associate indelicacy with one like little Louie; but--hang it!--there
was the awful fact. Suddenly, the thought struck me that the hand was
larger than Louie's. At that thought, a ghastly sensation came over me;
and, just at that moment, the lady herself turned her face, blushing,
arch, with a mischievous smile. To my consternation, and to my--well,
yes--to my horror, I saw Mrs. Finnimore!"

"Good Lord!" I exclaimed.

"A stronger expression would fail to do justice to the occasion," said
Jack, helping himself to a glass of beer. "For my part, the th