Then came a batch of people whom no one knew, and in the front of these the aides-de-camp allowed Alice to pass on to His Excellency.  She was prettily dressed, dragging after her a train of white faille trimmed with sprays of white heather and tulle, the petticoat being beautifully arranged with folded draperies of crepe de Chine.

A number of ladies had collected in the farther ante-room, and, in lines, they stood watching the effluent tide of satin and silk discharging its volume into the spaces of Patrick’s Hall.

XVIII

’I wish Alice would make haste, and not keep us waiting.  I suppose she has got behind a crowd.  Here are the Scullys; let’s hide, they don’t know a creature, and will hang on us.’

Olive and Mrs. Barton tried to slip out of sight, but they were too late; and a moment after, looking immense in a train and bodice of Lyons velvet, Mrs. Scully came up and accosted them.

‘And how do you do, Mrs. Barton?’ she said, with a desperate effort to make herself agreeable;

’I must congratulate you.  Everyone is admiring your dress; I assure you your train looked perfectly regal.’

‘I am glad you like it,’ replied Mrs. Barton; ’but what do you think of Olive?  Do you like her dress?’

’Oh, Olive has no need of my praises.  If I were not afraid of making her too vain I would tell her that all Dublin is talking of her.  Indeed, I heard a gentleman say—­a gentleman who, I believe, writes for the papers—­that she will be in the World or Truth next week as the belle of the season.  None of the other young ladies will have a chance with her.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ exclaimed Mrs. Barton, laughing merrily; ’haven’t you got your Violet?—­whom, by the way, you have transformed into a beautiful daisy.  It will be, perhaps, not the Rose nor the Olive that will carry off the prize, but the daisy.’

Violet glanced sharply at Mrs. Barton, and there was hate in the glance; for, although her mother did not, she understood well what was meant by the allusion to the daisy, the humblest of the earth’s flowers.

The appearance, however, of Lord Kilcarney brought the conversation to a close; and, not knowing how to address him, Olive laughed beautifully from behind her silver fan.  They entered Patrick’s Hall, where Lord Dungory, Lord Rosshill, and others were waiting to receive Mrs. Barton, who sought for a prominent seat, and dealing out pearly laughs and winsome compliments to her court, she watched Olive, who, according to orders, had taken Lord Kilcarney to sit on the highest of the series of benches that lined one side of the room, which she did, and for a moment Mrs. Barton felt as if she held Dublin under her satin shoe.  Alice was her only trouble.  What would she do with this gawk of a girl?  But soon even this difficulty was solved, for Harding came up and asked her if he might take her to get an ice.