"But what does this extraordinary display of light mean?" ejaculated
my aunt, the moment she entered the parlor from the dining-room. "It
looks like the kingdom of heaven in here! Jules! Jules!" she called,
"come and put out some of the light!"

Jules was at the front door letting in the usual Wednesday-evening
visitor, but now he came running in immediately with his own invention
in the way of a gas-stick,--a piece of broom-handle notched at the
end,--and began turning one tap after the other, until the room was
reduced to complete darkness.

"But what do you mean now, Jules?" screamed the old lady again.

"Pardon, madame," answered Jules, with dignity; "it is an accident. I
thought there was one still lighted."

"An accident! An accident! Do you think I hire you to perform
accidents for me? You are just through telling me that it was accident
made you give me both soup and gumbo for dinner today."

"But accidents can always happen, madame," persisted Jules, adhering
to his position.

The chandelier, a design of originality in its day, gave light by what
purported to be wax candles standing each in a circlet of pendent
crystals. The usual smile of ecstatic admiration spread over Jules's
features as he touched the match to the simulated wicks, and lighted
into life the rainbows in the prisms underneath. It was a smile that
did not heighten the intelligence of his features, revealing as it did