Punctuality at an affair of this kind being among the village virtues, the whole company was present within a surprisingly short time of the appointed hour.
"Good-evening, Professor Valeyon; good-evening, my dear; how well-you look! Step up-stairs--the first room on the right." "My pupil is to be here to-night, isn't he ?" inquired the professor, as his daughter vanished.
"Yes, he said he'd be down.

He doesn't seem to be used to society.

Miss Cornelia told me she thought it would do him good to begin, so I went up the other day and asked him." "Oh! humph!" said the old gentleman, who had vainly endeavored to catch Abbie's eye while she was speaking.

He stood silent a few moments, and then moved off to the gentlemen's dressing-room, taking a pair of white-kid gloves from his pocket as he went.
Cornelia, having removed her hood, put on her slippers, shaken out her skirt, touched her hair with the tips of her gloved fingers, and settled the ribbon at her throat, descended to the reception-room--as that part of the entrance-hall where Abbie stood was styled--and found her papa awaiting her.

She was about to take his arm, when the hostess touched her on the shoulder.
"Wait a moment," said she, with a peculiar grave smile; "I'll bring you your _protege_." Bressant was standing in the door-way of an inner room, leaning with the elbow of one arm in the hand of the other, as he pulled at his mustache and twisted the beard on his chin.