Before they got to the Tremaines’ house, Bertie drove up with Miss Lilla, who was “quite dry now, thank you; not worth while bringing all the sleighs up to the door.”  More than one curious observer noticed the panting flanks of the horse, who scarcely looked as if he had been resting in a stable.  To be sure, the delinquents had done that last mile rather fast, to nick in and meet the party before they should make inconvenient inquiries at Mr. Tremaine’s,—­Bertie, who was as good a mimic as his mother, enhancing the fright of his fair companion by an improvisation of the scene that would probably take place supposing they were too late to prevent it, and further convulsing her with a travesty of his brother-in-law in his most imposing attitude of stately displeasure.

Lilla nearly had a relapse when they met the rest, as Colonel Rolleston’s face was the faithful reproduction of Bertie’s five minutes before; but the ironical silence with which he received her speech, rather diminished their triumph at having escaped detection.  The girls were all to return to “The Maples,” dress there, and go to the dinner and dance at the barracks, under Mrs. Rolleston’s sole chaperonage.

The scrambling toilette was got through with much noise and merriment.

“Oh, has any one seen my ’waist’?” and “Do smooth my waterfall,” were enigmatical exclamations of frequent occurrence.  Cecil’s dormitory resembled a milliner’s show-room from the variety of dresses spread on the bed.

These were not of a very extravagant description; papery pink or green silk seemed most in vogue, completed with rows of beads round the throat; but when viewed in connexion with the apple-blossom complexions, abundant hair and dancing eyes of the Canadian belles, the adventitious aids of dress might well be deemed as superfluous as painting the lily.

Half-a dozen covered sleighs, going and returning, transported the party to the barracks, where, escorted by their military hosts, they ascended the staircase, banked with evergreens, and lined by motionless soldiers to the ante-room, which, of course, looked as unattractive as the cordial but mistaken exertions of its proprietors could make it—­all the laissez-aller comfort primly tidied away, and such a roasting fire as speedily drove every one to remote corners of the room.

The mauvais quart d’heure before dinner had the usual sobering effect, and young people, who later on would be valsing together on the easiest of terms, now shyly looked over photograph books, and discoursed with an edifying amount of diffidence and respect.  Each one was to go in to dinner with his companion of the sleigh—­an arrangement of questionable wisdom, and, as Bertie said, “It behoved one to be doubly careful whom one drove.”  Captain Delamere was furious, for, when he claimed Lilla, she calmly replied, “That having taken them both, she of course supposed he would ask her elder sister, and, therefore, had promised Captain Du Meresq.”