A Small Tea-Party.  
Miss Tippet’s tea-party began by the arrival of Willie Willders, who, being fond of society, and regardless of fashion, understood his hostess literally when she named her tea-hour! For full half an hour, therefore, he had the field to himself, and improved the occasion by entertaining Miss Tippet and Emma Ward with an account of the wonderful inventions that emanated from the fertile brain of Mr Thomas Tippet.
 
Strange to say, a deep and lasting friendship had sprung up between the eccentric old gentleman and his volatile assistant. Willie sympathised so fully with his master in his wild schemes, and displayed withal such an aptitude for mechanical contrivance, and such a ready appreciation of complex theories, that Mr Tippet soon came to forget his extreme youth, and to converse with him, propound schemes and new ideas to him, and even to ask his advice; with as much seriousness as though he had been a full-grown man.
 
This was of course very gratifying to Willie, who repaid his master’s condescension and kindness by devoting himself heart and soul to the duties of what he styled his “profession.” He was a good deal put out when his brother Frank asked him one day what his “profession” was, and resolving never again to be placed in such an awkward position of ignorance, asked his employer what was the name of his business, to which the employer replied that it had no particular name; but, on being urged by his assistant to give it a name, he suggested that he might, if so disposed, style himself a poly-artist, which, he explained, meant an artist of many occupations. Willie felt that this might be translated “jack-of-all-trades,” but on mature consideration he resolved to adopt it, in the belief that few people would understand what it meant, and that thereby he would be invested with a halo of mystery, which was, upon the whole, a gratifying reflection.
 
Gradually, however, Willie was led to diverge from his employer to his brother Frank, in regard to whom Miss Tippet entertained the strongest feelings of admiration, because of his courageous conduct in saving Louisa Auberly. Willie pursued this theme all the more willingly that Emma appeared to be deeply interested in it.
 
Emma Ward was very romantic in her nature; yet she had a keen appreciation of the ludicrous,—which caused her to appear somewhat light-headed and giddy in the eyes of superficial observers; but she possessed an underlying earnestness of soul, which displayed itself in a thousand ways to those who had much intercourse with her. She was an ardent hero-worshipper; and while Miss Tippet was her heroine, Frank Willders was, at that time, her beau idéal of a hero, although she only knew him from description.
 
Willie was still in the middle of a glowing account of a fire, in which Frank and his friends Dale and Baxmore were the chief actors; and Emma was listening with heightened colour, parted lips, and sparkling eyes, when Matty Merryon opened the door and announced Mr Tippet.
 
That gentleman was still in the act of shaking his sister’s hands with both of his, and kissing her on both cheeks heartily, when Matty announced Miss Deemas.
 
Matty, being Irish, allowed her soul to gush out too obviously in her tones; so that her feelings towards the Eagle, though unexpressed, were discernible.
 
Miss Deemas strode up to Miss Tippet, and pecked her on the right cheek, much as an eagle might peck a tender rabbit, which it could slay and devour if it chose, but which it preferred to spare for a time. She was immediately introduced to Mr Tippet, whom she favoured with a stiff bow, intended to express armed neutrality in the meantime; with a possibility, if not a probability, of war in the future. The eccentric gentleman felt chilled, but ventured to express an opinion in regard to the weather, glancing for confirmation of the same towards the window, through which he naturally enough expected to see the sky; but was baffled by only seeing the green venetian blinds, which ruled off the opposite houses in narrow stripes. Before he had recovered himself to make any further observation, Miss Deemas had attempted, in a condescending way, to peck the cheek of Emma Ward; but that young lady, feeling disinclined, so managed that she received the peck on her forehead.
 
On Willie, Miss Deemas bestowed a glance of utter indifference, which Willie replied to with a gaze of desperate defiance.
 
Then Miss Deemas seated herself on the sofa, and asked her “dear friend” how she did, and how she felt, and whether things in general were much as usual; from which elevated region of generalities she gradually descended into the more particular sphere of gossip and scandal.
 
It is only just to Miss Tippet to say that the Eagle did not find her a congenial bird of prey in this region. On the contrary, she had to drag her unwilling friend down into it; and as Miss Tippet was too conscientious and kind-hearted to agree with her in her sweeping censures and caustic observations and wilful misconstructions, it is difficult to conceive wherein she (the Eagle) found pleasure in her society. Probably it was because she found in her one who would submit meekly to any amount of contradiction, and listen patiently to any amount of vituperative declamation.
 
“So it seems Mr Auberly has disinherited and dismissed his son, my dear,” said Miss Deemas, smoothing her dress with both hands, as though she were about to lay Mr Auberly in her lap, and analyse him.
 
“I’m sorry to say that it is too true, Julia,” answered Miss Tippet, with a sigh.
 
“Ha! it’s so like one of these creatures,” said Miss Deemas, pursing her thin lips; “so domineering, so towering, in their pride of mere physical power.”
 
Mr Tippet glanced at the Eagle in surprise, not being able to understand to what sort of “creatures” she made reference.
 
“Poor Frederick,” sighed Miss Tippet, “I don’t know what he’ll do (ring the bell, Emma, darling); he’s such a bold, high-spirited young man, and it’s all owing to his determination to take to—to what’s-’is-name as a profession (bring the tea, Matty). It’s very sad.”
 
“That must be a new sort of profession,” observed Miss Deemas pointedly.
 
“Oh! I mean painting, you know. It’s impossible to arrange one’s things in such very correct language, you know, dear Julia; you are really too—oh! did you hear of Joe Corney, and what’s-his— fireman’s visit to Mrs Denman? To be sure you did; I forgot it was in your house. It was such a funny account; you heard of it, brother (ring the bell again, dear), didn’t you?”
 
Mr Tippet, whose wonted vivacity was quite subdued by the freezing influence of the Eagle, said that he had not heard of it; whereupon Miss Tippet said that she had heard of it, and so had Willie Willders, who had heard of it from his brother Frank, who had heard of it from Joe Corney himself; and then she attempted to relate the matter, but failed, and finally asked Willie to tell the story, which Willie did with much gusto; looking at Miss Deemas all the time, and speaking in a very positive tone, as if he thought she was doubting every word he said, and was resolved to hurl it in her teeth, whether she chose to believe it or not.
 
“Capital!” exclaimed Mr Tippet, laughing heartily, when Willie had concluded; “what an energetic old lady she must be! Really, I must get introduced to her, and show her the self-acting fire-extinguisher I have just invented. You remember it, Willie?” Willie nodded. “I’ve laid it aside for some time; but it is very nearly complete now. A little more work on it will finish it. My only difficulty in regard to it is, madam,” he addressed himself to Miss Deemas here, “that it is apt to burst, and I am uncertain whether or not to add a safety-valve to prevent such a catastrophe, or to make the metal so very strong, that nothing short of gunpowder would burst it; but then, you see, that would make the whole affair too heavy. However, these are only minor difficulties of detail, which a little thought will overcome.”
 
Miss Deemas received all this with a sinister smile, and replied with the single word, “Oh!” after which she turned immediately to Miss Tippet, and remarked that the weather had been unusually warm of late for the season of the year, which remark so exasperated Willie Willders that he turned with a face of crimson to Emma, and asked her if she didn’t feel a draught of cold air coming over her from somewhere, and whether she would not sit nearer the fire, and farther away from the window!
 
Willie meant this for an uncommonly severe cut; for Miss Deemas sat at the end of the sofa, near the window!
 
Fortunately, at this point, Matty Merryon ushered in Loo Auberly, who was instantly enfolded in Miss Tippet’s arms, and thence transferred to Emma’s, in which she was led to the sofa, and gently deposited in the softest corner.
 
“Darling Loo!” exclaimed Miss Tippet, with tears in her eyes; “you look so thin and pale.”
 
There could be no doubt on that point. Little Loo, as Emma styled her, was worn to a shadow by sickness, which had hitherto baffled the doctor’s skill. But she was a beautiful shadow; such a sweet, gentle shadow, that one might feel thankful, rather than otherwise, to be haunted by it.
 
“Pray don’t mind me; I’m too tired to speak to you yet; just go on talking. I like to listen,” said Loo softly.
 
With ready kindness, Miss Tippet at once sought to draw attention from the child, by reverting to Mrs Denman; and Matty created a little opportune confusion by stumbling into the room with the tea.
 
Matty usually tripped over the carpet at the door, and never seemed to become wiser from experience.
 
“Poor Mrs Denman,” said Miss Tippet, pouring out the tea; “it must have been an awful shock; think of a (Sugar, brother? I always forget), what was I—oh, yes; think of a fireman seizing one round the (Cream, Willie? I know you have a sweet tooth, so I don’t need to ask if you take sugar)—yes, he carried her down that dreadful what-d’ye-call-it, and into the next house with nothing (A little more sugar, Julia? No? )—nothing on but her what’s-’is-name. Oh! it was sad; sad to lose all her fine things, too—her furniture, and—and thingumies. Do try a piece of cake, brother.”
 
“I know a worse case than hers,” said Willie, with a knowing look.
 
“Do you?” exclaimed Miss Tippet.
 
“Oh! do tell it,” cried Emma earnestly; “he’s just been telling it to me, and it is so sad and interesting.”
 
“Come, let’s hear about it, lad,” said Mr Tippet.
 
Thus encouraged, Willie related his adventure with the clown’s family, and told his tale with such genuine feeling, that Miss Tippet, Loo, and Emma found their eyes moist when he had concluded.
 
There was a good deal of comment upon this subject, and Miss Deemas animadverted very strongly upon actors in general and clowns in particular. As to ballet-girls, she could not find words to express her contempt for them; but in reference to this Miss Tippet ventured to rebuke her friend, and to say that although she could not and would not defend the position of these unfortunates, yet she felt that they were very much to be pitied, seeing that they were in many cases trained to their peculiarly indelicate life by their parents, and had been taught to regard ballet-dancing as quite a proper and legitimate what’s-its-name. No doubt this was only a palliation of the life they led, but she thought that if anyone was to be severely blamed in the matter it was the people who went to witness and encourage such wicked displays.
 
Miss Deemas dissented generally f............