There was a time indeed, and not so long ago, when brave men wore garments no less dainty.
Rupert's Cavaliers were every bit as particular about their lace collars and frills as the lady whose pretty limbs once warmed this cambric.
But where is the name?
Ah! here it is! What sweet writing! "Sylvia Joy, No.

6." Sylvia Joy! What a perfectly enchanting name! and as I repeated it enthusiastically, it seemed to have a certain familiarity for my ear,--as though it were the name of some famous beauty or some popular actress,--yet the exact association eluded me, and obviously it was better it should remain a name of mystery.

Sylvia Joy! Who could have hoped for such a pretty name! Indeed, to tell the truth, I had dreaded to find a "Mary Jones" or an "Ann Williams"-- but Sylvia Joy! The name was a romance in itself.

I already felt myself falling in love with its unseen owner.

With such a petticoat and such a name, Sylvia herself could not be otherwise than delightful too.