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Miss Josephine Emberton was a small, slender young
lady of fifteen or sixteen, with profuse dark hair, much
like Mrs. Courtlandt's, and brilliant eyes, lips, teeth, and
complexion. In her madcap smile the very essence of
mischief betrayed itself, though at times a most winning
softness was not wanting—only the more striking for the
contrast.

“Good-morning, sir,” said Miss Josephine, with a mock
bow to the young man; then to Mrs. Courtlandt, “I just
came in because I was tired jumping the rope, ma'am,”
she said.

“Jumping the rope!” said Max, “is it possible a young
lady as old as yourself jumps the rope!”

“Certainly, sir.”

“But you didn't come in for that—you heard me in
here; did you not, now?”

“No, but I saw you—” said Miss Josephine, laughing.

“Kissing his old aunt,” said Mrs. Courtlandt, finishing
the sentence with a smile which somewhat disconcerted
Miss Josephine, “but you do not know why he was thanking
me, I think.”

“No, ma'am.”

“Because I did not set my face against dancing—Monsieur
Pantoufle the dancing-master, wishes to give lessons
here,” said Mrs. Courtland, moving away.

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“Oh, how delightful it will be!” said Josephine, elasping
her hands.

“Would be, Miss Josephine, you should say,” Max
replied; “the thing is not arranged so nicely yet as you
seem to think.”

“Pray, what has Mr. Max to do with our dancing,”
the young girl said, “I suppose it is one of his usual airs.”

“My usual airs!” cried Max; “I have a great deal to
do with it, Miss Josephine. I proposed it to Monsieur
Pantoufle, and aunt has consented to allow you all to
write and ask your respected parents for permission to
take lessons.”

“Oh! so you know Monsieur Pantoufle, Mr. Max?”

“He is one of my best friends.”

“What a big man you are getting!” continued Miss
Josephine, “you are a friend of Monsieur Pantoufle—you
are kind enough to do us poor little school-girls a kindness—
you are going to play Romeo—oh, what a fine gentleman!—
please don't stop speaking to me.”

Max received this raillery with great coolness, and
replied: “You might have used the words of Portia, `I
pray you know me when we meet again,' but that
reminds me, Miss Josephine, of a matter of business.
Don't think me so disinterested. Lawyers—and lawyers
to be too, don't give their time and talents for nothing; I
hold that to be a cardinal doctrine of our profession—”

“Our profession!”

“Don't interrupt me, Miss Josephine—I was about to
explain. For my exertions in favor of yourself and your
companions, I ask your assistance in a very perplexing
matter. You have mentioned, my dear Miss Josie—I beg
pardon Josephine, for you know aunt, who is busy at her
electrical machine yonder, dislikes nicknames—”

“So do I.”

“How can I get on!” cried Max, impatiently “if you
interrupt me whenever I speak.”

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“Really!”

“You spoke of my acting, Josie—what a tongue I
have!—Miss Josephine, I should say. Now, to act
Romeo it is absolutely necessary I should have a dress—”

“Well.”

“Dress requires money, Miss Josephine!”

“Money!”

“And the idea which has occurred to me,” continued
Max, with a business air, “is for you girls to raise a subscription
to buy my dress.”

“Are you in earnest?”

“Certainly I am.”

The young girl looked doubtfully at her companion.

“Give me a slate and pencil,” continued Max, “and
we'll figure it out.”

Josephine handed him a slate. He sat down and wrote
on the left hand, “Romeo's Dress”—on the right, “Subscribers.”

“How many girls?”

“About forty,” said Josephine.

“Excellent—that is forty subscribers; but say only
twenty dance—that is twenty subscribers.”

“Are you in earnest?” repeated Miss Josephine, bending
over him.

“In earnest about what?” asked Mrs. Courtlandt,
behind them.

Josephine drew back, and the young man said, laughing:

“About subscribing an amount of money, for which I
am negotiating a loan, aunt.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only a joke, aunt.”

“I might have known that—you are always joking.
Josephine,” she continued, “go ask Sister Julia if it is
not time to call in school. Good-by, nephew; you must
not stay.”

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“That's what you always say, aunt—would my face
frighten the girls? But dear aunt, I have something to
say to you. Please come in here for five minutes.”

“Certainly, nephew,” said Mrs. Courtlandt, following
him into the front room.

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