At length, however, she permitted herself to be soothed, and the little Kenwigses were distributed among the company, to prevent the possibility of Mrs. Kenwigs being again overcome by the blaze of their united beauty, after which, Morleena, the eldest olive branch—­whose name had been composed by Mrs. Kenwigs herself for the especial benefit of her daughter—­danced a dance.  It was a very beautiful figure, comprising a great deal of work for the arms, and was received with unbounded applause, as were the various accomplishments displayed by others of the party.  The affair was proceeding most successfully when Mr. Lillyvick took offence at a remark made by Mr. Kenwigs, and sat swelling and fuming in offended dignity for some minutes, then burst out in words of indignation.  Here was an untoward event!  The great man,—­the rich relation—­who had it in his power to make Morleena an heiress, and the very baby a legatee—­was offended.  Gracious powers, where would this end!

“I am very sorry, sir,” said Mr. Kenwigs humbly, but the apology was not accepted, and Mr. Lillyvick continued to repeat; “Morleena, child, my hat!  Morleena, my hat!” until Mrs. Kenwigs sunk back in her chair, overcome with grief, while the four little girls (privately instructed to that effect) clasped their uncle’s drab shorts in their arms, and prayed him to remain.

“Mr. Lillyvick,” said Kenwigs, “I hope for the sake of your niece that you won’t object to being reconciled.”

The collector’s face relaxed, as the company added their entreaties to those of their host.  He gave up his hat and held out his hand.

“There, Kenwigs,” he said.  “And let me tell you at the same time, to show you how much out of temper I was, that if I had gone away without another word, it would have made no difference respecting that pound or two which I shall leave among your children when I die.”

“Morleena Kenwigs,” cried her mother, in a torrent of affection; “go down upon your knees to your dear uncle and beg him to love you all his life through, for he’s more an angel than a man, and I’ve always said so.”

Miss Morleena, approaching to do homage, was summarily caught up and kissed by Mr. Lillyvick, and thereupon Mrs. Kenwigs herself darted forward and kissed the collector, and all was forgiven and forgotten.

No further wave of trouble ruffled the feelings of the party until suddenly there came shrill and piercing screams from an upper room in which the infant Kenwigs was enshrined, guarded by a small girl hired for the purpose.  Rushing to the door, Mrs. Kenwigs began to wring her hands and shriek dismally, amid which cries, and the wails of the four little girls, a stranger ran downstairs with the baby in his arms, explaining hastily that, visiting a friend in a room above, he had heard the cries, and found the baby’s guardian asleep with her hair on fire.  This explanation over, the baby, who was unhurt, and who rejoiced in