Soon there was a knock at the door, and Pocahontas, catching up fan, bouquet and handkerchief, opened it and stepped into the hall.  Nesbit Thorne, slender and distinguished looking, was awaiting her, Blanche having encountered and dispatched him immediately on her return to the parlors.  As the girl stood an instant framed by the open door, thrown into relief by the soft glowing background of the warmly lighted room, Thorne’s heart swelled with mingled gladness and impatience.  Joy in the pure perfection of her beauty; impatience at the restraint circumstances forced him still to put upon his love.

At the foot of the stairs they were pounced upon by Percival, who had selected that coigne of vantage as least likely to attract his mother’s attention, there to lay in wait for the cards of the unwary.  He had been strictly forbidden to importune grown young ladies for dances unless they happened to be wall-flowers, and the injunction lay heavy on his soul.  “I will ask girls other men ask,” he muttered, darkly, “I hate putting up with refuse and leavings.  I’m going to ask the ones I want to ask,” and he intrenched himself beside the stairway with intent to black-mail such girls as he should fancy.

Pocahontas, who had a natural affinity for boys, and a great fondness for Percival, yielded to his demand readily enough, surrendering her card to him in gay defiance of Thorne’s outspoken reprobation, and laughing mischievously as the boy scrawled his name triumphantly opposite a waltz.

“B.M.!  Who’s B.M., Miss Princess?” he questioned, as he dextrously avoided Thorne’s extended hand, and placed the card in Pocahontas’s.

“You’ve got him down just above me, and you wrote it yourself.  Who is he?  Benevolent Missionary?  Brother Mason?”

“Exactly!” she answered, smiling, and watching Thorne scribble his name in several places on her card.  “It is Berkeley.  The Byrd girls and I always saved a waltz for him to prevent his feeling left out.  He don’t like to ask girls generally; his one arm makes it look awkward, and he knows they wouldn’t like to refuse, because they all feel sorry for him. We put a hand on each shoulder, and don’t care how it looks.  Berke is adroit, and manages quite nicely.  Often, too, it’s an advantage to have a dance you can dispose of later on, so I continue to put the initials, although Berke seldom dances now.  He liked waltzing with the Byrd girls best.”

“You were very intimate with the Byrds, I think you said,” Thorne remarked idly, bowing to an acquaintance as he spoke.

“Very intimate.  See what came to me this morning; all these exquisite flowers, just when I needed them for to-night.  Roy searched the neighborhood through for white flowers without success, and then these came.  Aren’t they beautiful?” And she lifted her bouquet toward his face.

“Extremely beautiful!” he assented, bending his head to inhale their fragrance.  “It was very kind and thoughtful of your friends to send them.  I suppose, from the connection, that they are a Byrd offering.”