_AN ARRIVAL AT DEAD OF NIGHT_


I have sometimes been asked why I wear an odd little turquois ring--which
to the uninstructed eye appears quite valueless and altogether an unworthy
companion of those jewels which flash insultingly beside it. It is a little
keepsake, of which I became possessed about this time.

'Come, lass, what name shall I give you?' cried Milly, one morning,
bursting into my room in a state of alarming hilarity.

'My own, Milly.'

'No, but you must have a nickname, like every one else.'

'Don't mind it, Milly.'

'Yes, but I will. Shall I call you Mrs. Bustle?'

'You shall do no such thing.'

'But you must have a name.'

'I refuse a name.'

'But I'll give you one, lass.'

'And _I_ won't have it.'

'But you can't help me christening you.'