“What’s the need of worryin’ yer brains out over Latin, Greek and astronomy, when there’s my amount of fun to be had?  Come; a little mite of society will brighten up yer ideas.  Now listen to me, lad.  There’s goin’ to be a big ball given at the mayor’s, and d’ye remimber the darlint little craythur ye met on the street that day?”

Remember her? of course Fernando remembered her.  She had scarcely been out of his mind day or night since he had seen her.  She had been the angel of his dreams, the princess of countless air castles; but he had never indulged a hope that he might see her again.

“Will she be at the ball, Terrence?”

“To be sure.  It’s mesilf as heard it, and thin if ye’ll look over the Baltimore papers, ye’ll see her name Morgianna Lane, the daughter of Captain Felix Lane of Mariana, whose entree into society is to be the ninth, chaperoned by Madame Barnhart.”

Terrence Malone evinced a wonderful ability at picking up information on any question that took his fancy.  He had a bold way of insinuating himself into people’s affections, for no one could dislike the light-hearted, merry Irishman.

“Now there is no need for ye to say ye won’t go, because ye will,” said Terrence.  “It’s a grand occasion to be sure.  One of his majesty’s ships o’ war is in port, and some of the officers from her will be there, every alderman in the town, some congressmen and ex-President Jefferson will be there.”

Fernando looked at him in amazement and, after a moment, he said: 

“Terrence, if the ball is to be such a grand affair, please to inform me how we are to gain admission.”

“Now, me boy, lave that to me.  Will ye go?”

“Yes.”

“And ye don’t mind it if it’s a thrifle of an adventure, do yez?”

“No.”

“That’s it.  I always said ye was a lad after me own heart; but, Fernando, don’t yez say one word to Sukey.  He’s too slow and careful.  He might make trouble with us and upset all our plans.”

At first, Fernando, who hated anything like deceit, opposed secresy; but his Irish friend brought so many excellent arguments to bear, that he virtually carried his point.

“Terrence, I fear I will make an awkward figure in a ball room!” declared Fernando.  “I am not accustomed to such things.”

“A glass or two of champagne will do it for ye.”

“But I never danced in my life.”

“I’ll teach ye mesilf, and, bedad, ye’ll be as foine a terpechorian artist be the toime, as will be at the ball.”

The last objection swept away, Fernando began secretly to take lessons in the waltz, cotillon and other dances of the day.

Whatever may be said against Terrence, one thing is quite certain, he was no bad dancing master, and Fernando was an apt pupil.  Somehow, there was a spice of adventure in the escapade, which seemed to thrill Fernando with pleasure, and he entered into it with a zeal that was remarkable.