ds, too, for the misses. Ring for Mrs.
Willis, my son."

Willis came with her curtsey to the old gentleman, who gave his order
then and there. He never waited for a fancy of this kind to grow cold.

"We shall all be children again, on that day, Mrs. Willis," says he.
"And I catch any old people about, they shall be thrust straight in the
town stocks, i' faith."

Willis made another curtsey.

"We missed it sorely, last year, please your honour," says she, and
departs smiling.

"And you shall have your Patty Swain, Richard," Mr. Carvel continued.
"Do you mind how you once asked the favour of inviting her in the place
of a present? Oons! I loved you for that, boy. 'Twas like a Carvel.
And I love that lass, Whig or no Whig. 'Pon my soul, I do. She hath
demureness and dignity, and suits me better than yon whimsical baggage
you are all mad over. I'll have Mr. Swain beside me, too. I'll warrant
I'd teach his daughter loyalty in a day, and I had again your years and
your spirit!"

I have but to close my eyes, and my fancy takes me back to that birthday
festival. Think of it, my dears! Near threescore years are gone
since then, when this old man you call grandfather, and some--bless
me!--great-grandfather, was a lusty lad like Comyn here. But his hand is
steady as he writes these words and his head clear, because he hath not
greatly disabused that life which God has given him.

How can I, tho' her face and form are painted on my memory, tell you
what fair, pert Miss Dorothy was at that time'! Ay, I know what you
would say: that Sir Joshua's portrait hangs above, executed but the year
after, and hung at the second exhibition of the Royal Academy. As I look
upon it now, I say that no whit of its colour is overcharged. And there
is likewise Mr. Peale's portrait, done much later. I answer that these
great masters have accomplished what poor, human art can do. But Nature
hath given us a better picture. "Come hither, Bess! Yes, truly, you have
Dolly's hair, with the very gloss upon it. But fashions have changed,
my child, and that is not as Dolly wore it." Whereupon Bess goes to the
portrait, and presently comes back to give me a start. And then we go
hand in hand up the stairs of Calvert House even to the garret, where an
old cedar chest is laid away under the eaves. Bess, the minx, well knows
it, and takes out a prim little gown with the white fading yellow, and
white silk mits without fingers, and white stockings with clock