And stop short in the middle of a line, anyhow." Reginald rose from the piano with flushed cheeks, and said,--"I'm afraid I'm not used to this sort of music.

Perhaps Miss Shuckleford--" "Yes, Jim, you play.

You know the way.

You change places with Jim, Cruden, and come and run round." But Reginald declined the invitation with thanks, and took up a comic paper, in which he attempted to bury himself, while Miss Shuckleford hammered out the latest polka on the piano, stopping abruptly and frequently enough to finish half a dozen rounds in the time it had taken him to dispose of two.
Fresh games followed, and to all except the Crudens the evening passed merrily and happily.

Even Horace felt the infection of the prevalent good-humour, and threw off the reserve he had at first been tempted to wear in an effort to make himself generally agreeable.