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"It's a long story," returned Maurice, lighting a fresh cigar. "Look here, Uncle Jen, I went to dress at half-past six; you did also. When we left the devil-stick was in the room on the wall. Now we are here again at half-past eight, the devil-stick is gone. In these two hours Dido has had time to cross the lawn yonder and steal it." "She may even be able to do that," replied Isabella, seriously. "My mother is afraid of her, and is often influenced in her decisions by Dido." Elinor glanced about at the circle of laughing, friendly faces and her eyes shone..
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And when that conflagration was lighted in me about my début, Tom did it. I was sitting peaceably in my own summer-house, dressed in the summer-before-last that Jane washes and irons every day while I am deciding how to hand out the first sip of my trousseau to the neighbours, when Tom, in a dangerous blue-striped shirt, with a tie that melted into it in tone, jumped over my fence and landed at my side. He kissed the lace ruffle on my sleeve while I reproved him severely and settled down to enjoy him. But I didn't have such a good time as I generally do with him. He was too full of another woman, and even a first cousin can be an exasperation in that condition. Jen drew back and stared at the young man in angry surprise. "Did you know?" she asked breathlessly. "Did anyone know she was going to get it?" "'He or she,'" repeated Jen, slowly. "Dido I mentioned; but 'he!' who is 'he?'".
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