forgotten pantomime of "Jack and the Bean Stalk."

"They'll run you in for this, Master Malcolm," Charles had observed
ruefully, as they hurried through the dark streets. "If I lose my
place it will be all along of you, and it is a good place too,
though Mr. Anderson is a bit down on one." But, strange to say, they
escaped scot-free. Mrs. Herrick had not returned from a monster
meeting at St. James's Hall, and Anderson had retired to bed to
nurse his cold. Malcolm confided the whole story of his escapade to
Anna, and she had wept with grief and dismay. "Oh, Mally, how wicked
of Charles to take you!" she sobbed. "I never did think he looked
quite good. Mother would be so angry and unhappy if she knew; she
says theatres are not good for young people."

"It is just a crank on mother's part," returned Malcolm loudly; his
eyes were bright with excitement. "It was the loveliest thing you
ever saw, Anna. The princess was a beauty, and no mistake; even
Charles thought so, and he has seen princesses by the score. I am
glad I went; the boys won't think me such a duffer when I tell them.
Don't shake your head, Anna; you are a girl, and you don't
understand how much one has to put up with from the fellows. They
call me the Puritan, and ask if I wear pinafores at home. But I
stopped that," and here Malcolm doubled up his fists in a singularly
suggestive manner.

Malcolm's only sister, a pretty, fair-haired girl, had died of fever
when she was eight years old, and for years Mrs. Herrick had felt
her loss too deeply to mention her name. "If Florence had lived,"
she once said rather bitterly to her son, "she would have been my
close companion, and we should have thought alike on all points;"