Parson Frank was
Tom Thumb, and convulsed us all the evening by acting as if no
bigger than that worthy, keeping us so merry that even Clarence
laughed as I had never seen him laugh before.
Cock Robin and Jenny Wren--the best drawn of all--fell to Griff and
Miss Fordyce. There was a suspicion of a tint of real carnation on
her cheek, as, on his low, highly-delighted bow, she held up her
impromptu fan of folded paper; and drollery about currant wine and
hopping upon twigs went on more or less all the time, while somehow
or other the beauteous glow on her cheeks went on deepening, so that
I never saw her look so pretty as when thus playing at Jenny Wren's
coyness, though neither she nor Griff had passed the bounds of her
gracious precise discretion.
The joyous evening ended at last. With the stroke of nine, Jenny
Wren bore away Queen Titania to put her to bed, for the servants
were having an entertainment of their own downstairs for all the
out-door retainers, etc. Oberon departed, after an interval
sufficient to prove his own dignity and advanced age. Emily went
down to report the success of the evening to the elders in the
drawing-room, but we lingered while Frank Fordyce was telling good
stories of Oxford life, and Griff capping them with more recent
ones.
We too broke up--I don't remember how; but Clarence was to help me
down the stairs, and Mr.
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