’ “What sort?” I said.  “Then you have thought about it, Miss Wych?”—­Well, she was like a little fury at that,’ said Mrs. Bywank, smiling at the recollection,—­’as near as she can ever come to it.  And she caught up her hat and went off; and called back to me that she meant to go through motions enough of some sort, to be ready for her lunch when she got home.—­But I wish she was out of it, Mr. Rollo.’

Her hearer sat silent for a minute.

‘Mrs. Bywank, can you find Miss Hazel’s ticket for this ball?’

’I daresay, sir.  Would you like to see it?—­she shewed it to me.’

‘I would like to see it very much.’

The housekeeper went off, and presently brought back the little perfumed card, with scrolls and signatures, and ’Admit—­ —­’ and ‘Not transferable.’

‘She puts her own name in this place before she gives it in,’ said Mrs. Bywank.

The gentleman looked at the ticket attentively—­then bestowed it safely in his vest pocket; as if that subject was disposed of.

’But Mr. Rollo!’—­said the housekeeper in some consternation.

‘What, Mrs. Bywank?’ he returned innocently.

‘Miss Wych will never forgive me, sir!’

‘What?’

‘Why—­for stealing her ticket and giving it to you, sir.’

’You have not stolen it.  And you never meant to give it to me.  And she is not to know anything about it.’

‘It feels like high treason!’ said Mrs. Bywank.  ’And she is certain to get another.  But I’m sure I’d be glad there was some one there to look after things; for if she once got into that, and found young Nightingale or some of the rest with her, she’d be fit to fly.  And there she comes, this minute.’

As they looked, Wych Hazel came out from the deep shadow of the trees that clothed this end of the garden approach; faultlessly dressed as usual, and with her apron gathered up full of flowers; and herself not alone.  A young ’undress uniform’ was by her side.

’Captain Lancaster,’—­said Mrs. Bywank.

They came slowly on, talking; then stopped where the road to the main entrance branched off,—­the young officer cap in hand, extremely deferential.  They could see his face now; handsome, soldierly, and sunburnt; with a pleasant laugh which came readily at her words.  Her face they could not see, beneath the broad garden-hat.  The gentleman touched his ungloved hand to Wych Hazel’s little buff gauntlet; then apparently preferred some request which was not immediately granted; so gestures seemed to say.  Finally he held out his hand again; and she took from her apron a flower and placed in it; and it looked as if fingers and flower were taken together for a second.  It was a pretty scene; and yet Mrs. Bywank sighed.  Then with a profound reverence the young officer moved away, and Wych Hazel entered the side door.  She came on along the passage singing; trilling out the gay little lullaby by virtue of which Mrs. Bywank had long ago earned her name.