“Dress coat?” he inquired.

“Oh, no.”

“Is Rosville highly starched?”

“Oh, no.”

“I’ll be sure to go into society, then, as long as I can go limp.”

He bowed, and, retiring with Dr. Price, walked through the green with him, perusing the ground.

I wore a dark blue silk for the party, with a cinnamon-colored satin stripe through it; a dress that Alice supervised.  She fastened a pair of pearl ear-rings in my ears, and told me that I never looked better.  It was the first time since grandfather’s death that I had worn any dress except a black one.  My short sleeves were purled velvet, and a lace tucker was drawn with a blue ribbon across the corsage.  As I adjusted my dress, a triumphant sense of beauty possessed me; Cleopatra could not have been more convinced of her charms than I was of mine.  “It is a pleasant thing,” I thought, “that a woman’s mind may come and go by the gate Beautiful.”

I went down before Alice, who stayed with the children till she heard the first ring at the door.

“Where is Charles?” I asked, after we had greeted the Bancrofts.

“He will come in time to play, for he likes whist; do you?

“No.”

We did not speak again, but I noticed how gay and agreeable she was through the evening.

Ben Somers came early, suffering from a fit of nonchalance, to the disgust of several young men, standard beaux, who regarded him with an impertinence which delighted him.

“Here comes,” he said, “’a daughter of the gods, divinely tall, and most divinely fair.’” Meaning me, which deepened their disgust.

“Come to the piano,” I begged.  Helen was there, but his eyes did not rest upon her, but upon Charles, whom I saw for the first time that evening.  I introduced them.

“Cassandra,” said Charles, “let us make up a game in the East Room.  Miss Helen, will you join?  Mr. Somers, will you take a hand?”

“Certainly.  Miss Morgeson, will you be my partner?”

“Will you play with me then, Miss Helen?” asked Charles.

“If you desire it,” she answered, rather ungraciously.

We took our seats in the East Room, which opened from the parlor, at a little table by the chimney.  The astral lamp from the center table in the parlor shone into our room, intercepting any view toward us.  I sat by the window, the curtain of which was drawn apart, and the shutters unclosed.  A few yellow leaves stuck against the panes, unstirred by the melancholy wind, which sighed through the crevices.  Charles was at my right hand, by the mantel; the light from a candelabra illuminated him and Mr. Somers, while Helen and I were in shadow.  Mr. Somers dealt the cards, and we began the game.

“We shall beat you,” he said to Charles.

“Not unless Cassandra has improved,” he replied.

I promised to do my best, but soon grew weary, and we were beaten.  To my surprise Mr. Somers was vexed.  His imperturbable manner vanished; he sat erect, his eyes sparkled, and he told me I must play better.  We began another game, which he was confident of winning.  I kept my eyes on the cards, and there was silence till Mr. Somers exclaimed, “Don’t trump now, Mr. Morgeson.”