“That is right, Ishmael.  I must say that you yield gracefully.  Well, I will leave you now to prepare your toilet.  And—­Ishmael?”

“Yes, Bee?”

“Ring for more light!  You will never be able to render yourself irresistible with the aid of a single candle on one side of your glass,” said Bee, as she made her laughing exit.

Ishmael followed her advice in every particular, and soon made himself ready to appear in the ball.  When just about to leave the room he thought of his gloves, and doubted whether he had a pair for drawing-room use.  Then suddenly he recollected Bee’s Christmas present that he had laid away as something too sacred for use.  He went and took from the parcel the straw-colored kid gloves she had given him, and drew them on as he descended the stairs, whispering to himself: 

“Even for these I am indebted to her—­may Heaven bless her!”

CHAPTER LIV.

ISHMAEL AT THE BALL.

  Yes! welcome, right welcome—­and give us your hand,
    You shall not stand “out in the cold”! 
  If new friends are true friends, I can’t understand
    Why hearts should hold out till they’re old;
  Then come with all welcome and fear not to fling
    Reserve to the winds and the waves,
  For thou never canst live, the cold-blooded thing
    Society makes of its slaves.

  —­M.F.  Tupper.

A very handsome young fellow was Ishmael Worth as he entered the drawing room that evening.  He had attained his full height, over six feet, and he had grown broad-shouldered and full-chested, with the prospect of becoming the athletic man of majestic presence that he appeared in riper years.  His hair and eyes were growing much darker; you might now call the first dark brown and the last dark gray.  His face was somewhat fuller; but his forehead was still high, broad, and massive, and the line of his profile was clear-cut, distinct, and classic; his lips were full and beautifully curved; and, to sum up, he still retained the peculiar charm of his countenance—­the habit of smiling only with his eyes.  How intense is the light of a smile that is confined to the eyes only.  His dress is not worth notice.  All gentlemen dress alike for evening parties; all wear the stereotyped black dress coat, light kid gloves, etc., etc., etc., and he wore the uniform for such cases made and provided.  Only everything that Ishmael put on looked like the costume of a prince.

He entered the lighted and crowded drawing room very hesitatingly, looking over that splendid but confused assemblage until he caught the eye of Judge Merlin, who immediately came forward to meet him, saying in a low tone: 

“I am glad you changed your mind and decided to come down.  You must become acquainted with some of my acquaintances.  You must make friends, Ishmael, as well as gain knowledge, if you would advance yourself.  Come along!”