The two took their places in the ring, and Jim next sacrificed himself for the evening's good and chose another of Josie's cousins. Then John Robert Charles manfully took his place and chose Josie Dean. So they went on until nearly all had been chosen. Then Mrs. Dean asked them out to have some refreshments. They were all very merry indeed. Mr. Dean sang some amusing songs afterward, and they all joined in several school songs.
"I've just been happy through and through," admitted Charles. "I wish I could give a party. You should come and plan everything," he whispered to Josie.
It was time to go home then. There was a Babel of talk as the little girls were finding their wraps, mingled with pleasant outbursts of laughter. Mr. Dean was to take some of the small people home, and Jim obligingly offered his escort. It had not been so _very_ babyish.
Ben wrapped his little sister up "head and ears," and ran home with her. How the stars sparkled!
"It's been just splendid!" she said to her mother. "Don't you think I might have a party some time, and Ben and all of us?"
Her father looked up from his paper and smiled. She seemed to have grown taller. What if, some day, he should lose his little girl!
The very next day Mr. Whitney announced that he was going to take the Deans and their cousins and Nora to the Museum. He wanted the little girl to go with them. Delia was visiting in Philadelphia. He promised, laughingly, to have them all home in good season.
New Year's Day was gayer than ever. The streets were full of throngs of men in twos up to any number, and carriages went whirling by. There were no ladies out, of course. Margaret had two of her school friends receiving with her, one a beautiful Southern girl whose father was in Congress, and who was staying on in New York, taking what we should call a post-graduate course now, perfecting herself in music and languages. Margaret was a real young lady now. Joe had taken her to several parties, and there had been quite a grand reception at the Beekmans'.
The little girl was dressed in her blue cashmere and a dainty white Swiss apron ornamented with little bows like butterflies. Miss Butler thought she was a charming child. She stood by the window a good deal, delighted with the stir and movement in the street, and she looked very picturesque. Her hair, which was still light, had been curled all round and tied with a blue ribbon instead of a comb. Her mother said "it was foolishness, and they would make the child as vain as a peacock." But I think she was rather proud of the sweet, pretty-mannered little girl.