“Oh, everybody is engaged,” said Bertie, mendaciously ignoring Miss Kendal’s half-admission of being open to an offer.  “I shall not join the drive at all, unless,” he added, in a hesitating manner, as if it was a sudden thought, “Miss Leigh will compassionate me, and allow me to take charge of her.”

Bluebell, confused by this unexpected proposition, and by feeling so many eyes turned upon her, did not immediately make any answer; then a vexatious remembrance intruded itself, and she replied, with what that individual would have thought most unnecessary concern,—­

“I am very sorry—­I mean—­I believe I am half-engaged to Mr. Vavasour.”

“I should think you were,” said Mrs. Rolleston.  “I don’t know what he would say if you threw him over.”

“Oh!” said Bertie, plaintively, “if that insinuating youth has been beforehand, of course there’s no chance for me.  Well, I am out of the hunt,”—­and he carelessly whistled a bar of “Not for Joseph” in reply to a suggestive motion of his sister’s towards Miss Kendal.

“I should think it so dull,” said that young lady, tossing her head, “to be engaged so long before. I do not intend to decide till the day.”

“What shall you keep all your admirers in suspense till the last moment?” said Bertie, with a covert sneer, for he was angry at her slighting behaviour to Bluebell.  “What a scramble there will be!”

Miss Kendal was not altogether satisfied with the tone of the remark, so she commenced tying on her cloud, observing sharply, “Well, mamma, we shall be benighted if we stay any longer.”

Bertie dutifully attended them to the sleigh, and won the elder lady’s heart by the skill with which he tucked round her the fur robes and the parting grace of his bow.

She was about to purr out some commendation, when—­“What a bear that man is!” burst with startling vehemence from Miss Kendal’s coral lips.

“Oh! my dear, what can you mean?  I thought he seemed so agreeable.”

“I as good as told him,” muttered the ruffled fair, too angry to be reticent, “that I had no one to drive me to-morrow; and I think it was real rude asking that Bluebell Leigh before my face,—­a mere nursery governess—­and not giving me so much as the chance of refusing him.”

“But you said,” urged Mrs. Kendal, who did not see beyond the proverbial nasal tip, “that you would not decide on your sleigh till the day.”

“I only know,” said the daughter, with dark emphasis, “I wouldn’t drive with him now, if he went on his bended knees to ask me.”

“Thank you, Bella,” said Bertie, returning.  “Nice little game you had cut out for me!  What an odious girl!”

Cecil’s jealous instinct detected the root of this animosity, more especially guided thereto by his attempt to secure Bluebell as a companion, which had surprised her not too agreeably.

“What is her crime,” said she, sarcastically, “beyond a rather transparent design of driving with you Bertie?”