This was Mrs. Allen's "reception-day," the day on which she always staid at home, that her friends might be sure of finding her in.

"Not at home," Nathaniel had kept saying to visitors that afternoon. But one of them, a queenly-looking lady, would not be satisfied with the answer.

"Are the children here?" demanded she. "Those nieces and nephews?"

Nathaniel did not know exactly what reply to make; so he invited the lady into the parlor, and went to inquire.

Dr. Moonshine and Lady Magnifico were in the drawing-room, looking over engravings.

"Gnat, gnat, you troublesome insect," said the doctor. "I heard auntie tell you we were not to be disturbed."

"But what could I say?" asked the insect, humbly. "I couldn't tell her 'not at home.'"

"You must say, 'Beg to be excused;' those are the proper words," said my lady.

"Yes," added the doctor; "go, there's a good gnat, and sting 'em like sixty, if they don't start quick."

Nathaniel obeyed, looking as dignified as ever, though nothing but a strong sense of propriety kept him from smiling.

He had not crossed the hall before Mother Hubbard entered the parlor, dragging Fly, who was pinned to her skirts.

Mother Hubbard was flushed and excited, her nose dusted with flour, her cap pulled entirely over her forehead; and she was saying, in a loud tone, "I can't take any peace of my life, Fly Clifford, you know I can't, unless I get you fastened somehow."

"I don't 'low folks to fassin me," responded Fly, shaking her lace cap in a blaze of wrath; "the next that fassins me, I'll scwatch who did it!"

It was not at all like either of the children to talk in this way, any more than it was like them to be dressed in such ridiculous costume. The effect upon the lady visitor was quite startling. She started, smiled, rose from her chair, and held out her hand.

"Now tell me if this isn't Miss Prudy Parlin. I have seen your picture, my love."

What eyes, to spy out a likeness under all the flour and furbelows, not to mention the green spectacles! Prudy quivered like a frightened mouse, but could not get away, for a trap was sprung upon her; a steel-gloved hand was holding her fast.

"I am Madam Pragoffyetski, a Polish runaway. You may not have heard of me, but I know all about Prudy and little Thistledown Flyaway."

"Nicely, thank you, m'm," responded Miss Fly, in a voice as faint as the peep of a chicken; at the same time darting forward and tearing a piece out of her slip. "If she runned away I'd be 'shamed to tell of it."

"How awful for her to come here!" thought Mother Hubbard, stealing a timid glance at the lady's ermine muff. "She looks nice, but I don't want anything to do with such people."

"Don't be afraid of me, dears," said the lady, laughing; "I call myself a runaway just in sport. I am a warm admirer of yours, and my dear friend, your auntie, has promised me a visit from you. I came on purpose to ask you, and your sister, and your cousins to my house to dinner to-morrow. Will you come?"

Mother Hubbard gazed doubtfully at the steel-colored glove. What could she say?

"Thank you ever so much, Mrs.—Mrs. Pradigoff, but Fly is not allowed to go out."

Flyaway was greatly chagrined.

"Well, I—I solomon promised," said she, casting down her guilty eyes, as she remembered the orange man; "I solomon promised I would't go ou' doors, athout somebody lets me."

"There's a tender conscience for you," laughed the Polish lady. "Why was she not to go out, Miss Prudy?"

"Because she is so quick-motioned, ma'am. Before you know it she's lost. That's the reason I pinned her to my dress. You see, ma'am, we are playing 'keep house.'"

"O, if her quickness is all the trouble, I'll take the responsibility that she shan't get lost. I'll bind her fast with a silken chain. Really, children, my heart is set on your coming. My house is full of things that make a noise—a canary, a paroquet, a mocking-bird, a harp, a piano, and a guitar. And—"

Mrs. Pragoff did not add that she had invited a little party to meet them. She was afraid of frightening the timid souls.

"Would you like to come, Miss Prudy? Tell me honestly, now."

There was no need to ask Fly. She was dancing for joy—the absurd little image.

"O, yes'm; I'd be delighted," replied Mother Hubbard, a smile lighting up her face even to the floury tip of her nose. "And I think Horace and Dotty would, too. Shall I go and ask?"

Yes, Horace and Dotty were both pleased with the idea.

"She's a foreigner," said Prudy, doubtfully; "but she talks our language beautifully. She's a dear friend of auntie's, too."

"What I object to," said Horace, "is taking Toddlekins; but I may possibly hire her to stay at home."

It was finally decided that Mrs. Pragoff should call next day and take the children to church with her, and thence home to a Christmas dinner. She laughed, as she rolled away in her carriage, thinking what droll figures they were, and how Prudy blinked through her glasses.

"So I shan't have to cook but one meal more, and that will be breakfast," thought Mother Hubbard, her tired heart leaping up with something like joy.

They sat down to dinner at last.

"Tea urn been standing on the table all this while?" asked Dr. Moonshine, resuming his critical manners; "'twould take the tea some time to freeze on here, Mrs. Hubbard, if that is what you're trying to do with it!"

Mrs. Hubbard pretended not to hear.

"She's blind of her ears, papa; you have to speak loud."

"What makes your child's face so red, doctor?" asked the landlady, pouring hot water till it overran the cup; "don't the darling feel well?"

"Yes'm, pitty well; only but the white tea gets in my cheeks and makes 'em too hot."

"White tea, I should think," remarked Dr. Moonshine; "why, Mother Hubbard, the tea-leaf in your urn must feel rather lonesome."

Mother Hubbard took off the cover and peeped in.

"None there, as true as you live! I'll jump right up, doctor, and stew two or three handfuls."

"Don't rise for me, ma'am; don't rise for me. We'll swallow the will for the deed, ma'am; the will for the deed."

"It's always so, doctor," said Lady Magnifico, in an undertone; "we've had to swallow these mistakes from time immortal."

Her ladyship meant "immemorial." She was surprised at the ease with which she used large words.

"All the mistakes are owing to the eccentricity of genius," said the doctor, bowing to Mother Hubbard. "Our landlady is what is called 'absent.' Here's a health to our absent friend."

"You'll have to excuse the biscuit," said Mother Hubbard, nervously. "I mixed 'em too tight, and I think the flour's half corn, they look so yellow; it can't be all soda."

"I presume not all soda; some mixture of flour and water. But where are they, ma'am?"

"O, I put them in the cupboard. I thought you'd like crackers better."

"But these are the mizzerble kind, that don't split," said Lady Magnifico, in tragic tones; "I told you so to-day noon."

"Stop a minute, Miss Hubbard; my coffee's too sour," cried the youngest, determined to scowl as hard as Dotty did, if it was a possible thing.

The worried landlady passed the sugar, and the small boarder corrected the sourness of her white tea with three teaspoonfuls, heaping measure.

"My little Toddlekins is eating nothing." said the doctor. "I hope her red cheeks don't indicate fever."

"There's great quantities of sickness just now among children," said Lady Magnifico, crooking her little finger genteelly. "Nervous Exhaustation is going about."

"Nervous what, my lady?"

"Exhaustation. I am well acquainted with a lady in the first society that had it dreadfully. She called in twenty-five doctors, if my memory preserves me right; and then she like to died."

"You know it for a fact, my lady? I hope it won't come here (or the doctors either). Is it catching, Dr. Moonshine?"

"Well, yes, Mother Hubbard; it's apt to catch fine ladies. Goes hard with 'em, too."

"Ah me, then I'll never dare go out," drawled Lady Magnifico, looking at her rings.

Here Mother Hubbard timidly passed the cake. "White Mountain; but I suspect it's a poor rule."

"A poor rule that don't work both ways, hey? If this was ever white, ma'am, 'twasn't a fast color; faded to a rusty black. And as to it's being a mountain, ma'am, it looks to me like a pretty hollow valley."

"I'm so sorry, doctor! But your little girl dusted my soda over the cat, and that was why the cake didn't rise."

"Just so, ma'am; but did the cat rise?"

"O, Dr. Moonshine, I see you're making fun of my cooking. And now I'll tell you something more. I got the butter ready, and forgot to put it in, and that's why the cake's so tough."

"Never mind," said the doctor, very amiable as long as he could make his joke. "It is pretty tough cake, ma'am; but it's always tougher where there's none."

"There's one thing about it," said Mother Hubbard, a little relieved; "it's sweet in the middle, and you needn't eat the bitter part, where it's burnt."

"It's my practice to mix the bitter with the sweet," said the doctor, waving the butter-knife. "In this way, Mother H., your black-valley cake is almost as good as pills."

"I ate a pill," observed Fly, "and 'twas worser'n this!"

"You ate a pill, child? When? Where? I'll warrant that's what ails you."

"No, it don't ail me now. I spitted it out."

After nibbling a few crackers, and the inside of the cake, the happy family moved away from the table, hungrier than when they had sat down.

"What is home without a mother?" sang Horace, in a plaintive voice; and Dotty joined in, with emphasis.

Prudy looked as low-spirited as the "black-valley cake."

"I hope Uncle Augustus will be able to come home to-morrow. I declare, we are real cruel not to feel worse about his being sick away off there in a hotel."

"You'd better believe he gets things to eat," responded Lady Magnifico, aside to the doctor. "I'd rather be some sick than have a landlady that's purblind and purdeaf, and such owdrageous poor cooking! Glad I'm going out to Christmas dinner."