Scott in ordinary evening-dress stood near the door talking to an immense Roman Emperor, looking by contrast even smaller and more insignificant than usual.  Yet a closer observation would have shown that the same instinctive dignity of bearing characterized them both.  Utterly unlike though they were, yet in this respect it was not difficult to trace their brotherhood.  Though moulded upon lines so completely dissimilar, they bore the same indelible stamp—­the stamp of good birth which can never be attained by such as have it not.  Sir Eustace Studley was the handsomest man in the room.  His imperial costume suited his somewhat arrogant carriage.  He looked like a man born to command.  His keen eyes glanced hither and thither with an eagle-like intensity that missed nothing.  He seemed to be on the watch for someone.

“Who is it?” asked Scott, with a smile.  “The lady of the rink?”

The black brows went up haughtily for a moment, then descended in an answering smile.  “She is the only woman I’ve seen here yet that’s worth looking at,” he observed.

“Don’t you be too sure of that!” said Scott.  “I can show you a little Italian peasant girl who is well worth your august consideration.  I think you ought to bestow a little favour on her as you have each chosen to assume the same nationality.”

Sir Eustace laughed.  “A protegee of yours, eh?  That little brown girl, I suppose?  Charming no doubt, my dear fellow; but ordinary—­distinctly ordinary.”

“You haven’t seen her yet,” said Scott.  “You had your back to her in the salle-a-manger.”

“Where is she then?  You had better find her before the beautiful Miss de Vigne makes her appearance.  I don’t mind giving her a dance or two, but you must take her off my hands if we don’t get on.”

“I will certainly do that,” said Scott in his quiet voice that seemed to veil a touch of irony.  “I believe she is in the vestibule now.  No, here she is!”

Dinah, with laughing lips and sparkling eyes, had just ventured to the door with Billy.  “We’ll just peep,” she said to her brother in the gay young tones that penetrated so much further than she realized.  “But I shall never dare to dance.  Why, I’ve never even seen the inside of a ballroom before.  And as to dancing with a real live man—­” She broke off as she caught sight of the two brothers standing together near the entrance.

Eustace turned his restless eyes upon her, gave her a swift, critical glance and muttered something to Scott.

The latter at once stepped forward, receiving a smile so radiant that even Eustace was momentarily dazzled.  The little brown girl certainly had points.

“May I introduce my brother?” said Scott.  “Sir Eustace Studley—­Miss—­I am afraid I don’t know your surname.”

“Sketchy,” murmured Eustace, as he bowed.

But Dinah only laughed her ringing, merry laugh.  “Of course you don’t know.  How could you?  Our name is Bathurst.  I’m Dinah and this is Billy.  I am years older than he is, of course.”  She gave Eustace a shy glance.  “How do you do?”