from her seat, and seizing the dog by the forepaws, danced him violently about the room. “We need a shaking up, Peter Snooks, or we’ll not be allowed to jingle our bells any longer at the court of his majesty Dad the Great! Who ever heard of jesters neglecting their duties! His royal highness must laugh,” she said gayly, “or he’ll cry, ‘Off with their heads!’ like Alice’s fierce old queen.” She emphasized this possible calamity by swinging the dog up in the air and herself executing a daring pas seul before she dropped breathless in a 6 chair. “I had rather die than be stupid, hadn’t you, Julie?” she gasped, between breaths. 

6

 “In that case I think you will be spared to us a while yet,” replied her sister, with quiet humor. 

 “So glad you think we’re a success,” Hester said, cheerfully. “Peter Snooks, do you hear? we’re a success—she approves!” The dog lay panting on the floor, and wagged his tail in understanding of the compliment. “We’ll give a private exhibition to his majesty to-night after dinner. How he will laugh! We will elaborate this feeble effort and call it ‘The Dance of Joy.’ Things are always more interesting with names,” she said, decisively. “Julie, you be showman and introduce us.” 

 Julie took her cue immediately, and rising, bowed low. “Ladies and gentlemen (that means Dad)—ladies and gentlemen, I shall now have the honor of presenting to your astonished vision the wonderful and original ‘Dance of Joy’—” 

 The library door opened suddenly, and a middle-aged woman entered and closed the door after her. She stopped just inside the threshold, and looking from one to the other with a scared face, stood wringing her hands helplessly. 

 “Good gracious! what is the matter, Bridget?” Julie ejaculated. “Tell us—you look frightened to death.” 7 

7

 The woman opened her lips and closed them with a moan. No word escaped her. 

 Both girls were beside her in an instant, and Julie gave her a little shake. 

 “Is it Daddy? What has happened? Bridget, Bridget, speak!” Her beseeching young voice cried out with instinctive fear. 

 “They’re bringing him in,” Bridget gasped at last. “He took sick in the office with a stroke. Dr. Ware’s with them. He sez you’re not to see him yet. He sez I’m to keep you in here till he comes—the Doctor, I mean.” Her words came in a tumult of confusion. 

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