Again the angry flame mounted to Captain Bertram’s thin cheek.  He strolled across the grass, and joined his hostess.

“Now I call this a shame!” exclaimed the good lady, “you don’t tell me that you are all by yourself, captain, and no one trying to make themselves agreeable to you!  Oh, fie! this will never do—­and you, so to speak, the lion of the party.”

“Pray don’t say that, Mrs. Meadowsweet, I hate being a lion.”

“But you can’t help it, my good young sir.  You, who represent our Gracious Sovereign Lady’s Army.  Now, where’s that girl of mine?  Beatrice!  Trixie!  Bee!”

Captain Bertram was amazed at the shrill and far-sounding quality of Mrs. Meadowsweet’s voice.  It distressed him, for anything not ultra refined jarred upon this sensitive young officer’s nerves; but he trusted that the result would be satisfactory, and that Beatrice, whose motions he began to liken to a poem, would put in a speedy appearance.

She was talking to Mr. Jones, however, and when her mother called her, she and the curate approached together.

“Beatrice, this poor young man—­Captain Bertram, the hero of the evening, is all alone.  Not a soul to amuse him or entertain him.”

“Mother, you mistake,” answered Beatrice, “Captain Bertram is being entertained by you.”

“Hoots, child!  What should an old lady have to say to a gay young lad?”

“Plenty, I assure you.  I am being delightfully amused,” replied the captain.

He gave Beatrice an angry look which she would not see.

“I want to talk to Jane about the supper,” said the young lady in a calm voice.  “Captain Bertram, may I introduce you to Mr. Jones?”

Again she flew lightly away, and the captain owned to himself that the tennis party at the Gray House was a very dull affair.

Supper, however, made amends for much.  The incongruous elements were not so apparent.  Everybody was hungry, and even the most fastidious had to acknowledge the fare of the best.  Captain Bertram quite retrieved his character in Beatrice Meadowsweet’s eyes, so well did he help her in serving her guests.  Matty, Alice and Sophy Bell forgave him for his abrupt departure earlier in the evening from the charms of their society, when he helped them each twice to lobster salad.

Captain Bertram was not at all averse to the charms of a small flirtation.  He was forced to remain for a few days in the remote little world-forgotten town of Northbury, and it occurred to him as he helped the Bells to lobster salad, and filled up Miss Matty’s glass more than once with red currant wine, that Beatrice could solace him a good deal during his exile from a gayer life.  He was absolutely certain at the present moment that the best way to restore himself to her good graces was once again to endure the intellectual strain of the Bells’ society.  Accordingly when supper was over, and people with one consent, and all, as it were, moved by a sudden impulse, joined first in a country dance, then formed into sets for quadrilles, and finally waltzed away to the old-fashioned sound of Mrs. Meadowsweet’s piano, played with vigor by the good lady herself, Captain Bertram, with a beseeching and deprecatory glance at Beatrice, who took care not to see it, led out Miss Matty Bell as his partner.