sedan chair in the custody of the two men who usually carried her to and fro when she attended the balls.  Two other sedan chairs, several bath chairs and donkey chairs, and a couple of flys were in attendance.  Aided by the magical influence of a small “tip,” Glenville easily persuaded the men in charge that the dance would not be over for a few minutes, and that they had time to go and get a glass of beer, which, he said, Miss Candlish wished them to have in return for the care and trouble they had several times taken in carrying her home.  As soon as they had gone, he and Barton came back into the ball-room; and, as the last dance was coming to an end, and the band was beginning to scramble through “God save the Queen,” in a most disloyal manner, he came up to Miss Candlish, and said, “May I have the pleasure of seeing you to your chair, and thanking you for that very delightful dance?”

“My dear Mr. Glenville,” said the Drag, “your politeness is quite overpowering.  Ah, if all young men were like you, what a very different world it would be.”

“You must not flatter me,” said Glenville, “for I am very soft hearted, especially where the fair sex is concerned.”

“Ah, how I wish I had a son like you!” sighed the Drag.

“And how I wish you were my m—­m—­mother!” replied that villain Glenville, as he adjusted her cloak, and led her out to her chair.  It was pitchy dark outside (only a couple of candle lanterns to see by), and the usual confusion upon the breaking up of a large party was taking place.  Miss Candlish stepped into her chair, and the door was closed.  Glenville and Barton took up the chair, and, going as smoothly as they could (which was not as smoothly as the usual carriers), they turned aside from the main stream of the visitors, and made at once for the harbour.  Here they had intended to deposit the chair, and leave the rest to fate; but, as luck would have it, in setting down the chair in the darkness, one side of it projected over a sort of landing-place.  It toppled over and fell sideways with a splash into the muddy water.  Scream upon scream followed rapidly.  “Murder! thieves! help!” Shriek after shriek, and at last a female form, wildly flinging her arms into the air, could be seen emerging from the half buried chair.  Glenville and Barton had run away before the chair fell, but, hearing the fall, looked back, and were at first spellbound with terror at what had happened.  When, however, they saw the Drag emerge, they fairly fled for their lives by a circuitous way little frequented by night, and reached home just before the rest of us arrived.  There was some alarm when Miss Candlish did not arrive for about twenty minutes or half an hour.  Glenville and Barton told Thornton and myself what had happened, and wanted to know what they should do.  Of course, we advised that they should say and do nothing, but wait upon the will of the Fates.  They were in a great fright, and when Miss Candlish arrived in