’Yes, I’ll take the chair; and Miss Kennedy and I’ll divide the civil speech between us,’ said Kitty Fisher, placing herself close by Hazel.  ’It’s awfully nice here.  What are you all about?’

‘Just unable to get on for want of Miss Fisher,’ said Stuart.  ‘Calling for you, in fact.’

‘Echo answering “Where?” and all that,’ said Kitty.

‘Not at all.  Echo said you were coming.’

’No dancing to-night?—­awfully slow, isn’t it?  Beg pardon, Phinny; but you think just so yourself.  Go off and start up the band into a waltz, and we’ll have it out before the old lady gets the idea into her head.  Come?’

Phinny started off on the instant with such energy and goodwill to her errand, that in a few minutes the burst of a waltz air in the immediate neighbourhood of the parties requiring it, said that Miss Josephine had been successful.  And she said it herself.

‘There!’ she exclaimed; ’we’ve got it.  Mamma’ll never care, if she hears, nor know, if she sees.  Come!  Here are enough of us.’

One and another couple sailed off from the group.  Stuart offered his hand to Wych Hazel.  ‘You waltz?’ he said.

She gave hers readily.  The music had put her on tiptoe.  And presently the little green was full of flying footsteps and fluttering draperies.  As many as there was room for took the ground; but there was good room, and the waltz was spirited.  Some stood and looked on; some beat time with their feet.  In a shadow of the corner where they had been talking, stood Prim and Rollo; not beating time.  Prim put her hand on his arm, but neither spoke a word.

‘Shall we take a tangent,—­and finish our stroll?’ whispered Stuart, when they had whirled round the circle several times.

‘If you like,—­one is ready for anything in such a night,’ said Hazel gleefully.  She had gone round much like a thistledown, with a child’s face and movement of pleasure.  So, suddenly and silently, as they were passing one of the alleys that led out from the little green, Stuart and his partner disappeared from the eyes of the spectators.  It was certainly a pleasant night for a stroll.  The light made such new combinations of old things, took and gave such new views; the pleasure of looking for them and finding them was ensnaring.  Then the air was very sweet and soft, and—­so was Stuart’s conversation.

Gliding on from one thing to another, even as their footsteps went,—­mingling fun and fancy and common-place and flattery in a very agreeable sort of pot-pourri,—­so they followed down one alley of the shrubbery and up another; winding about and about, but keeping at a distance from other people.  Until, much too soon for Stuart’s intent, they were suddenly and quietly joined at a fork of the paths by Rollo, with Miss Fisher on his arm.