‘I shall not dance it, Kitty,’ said Wych Hazel steadily, though her cheeks glowed.

‘No?’ said Miss Fisher.  ’Not to the tune of “The king shall enjoy his own again”?  Well—­what of “Les Mains Mysterieuses"?’

‘I protest, now,’ said Captain Lancaster.  ’There cannot be even a pretence of mystery about Miss Kennedy’s hand.  It is the merest farce.’

’O, you’d like “Le Coussin,” and a chance to go down on your knees!’ said Miss Fisher, slightly provoked.

‘Pardon me!’ said Captain Lancaster.  ’When I go down on my knees to Miss Kennedy, I shall want no cushion.’

‘Good!’ said Miss Burr.

‘I vow,’ said Kitty Fisher, ’you’re a lover worth having.  But the pretty dear’ll get spoiled among you.  Come—­what will she choose?  “Le Miroir!” Nothing to do but look at her own sweet self.  Run away, Duchess, and take your seat.’

‘Rather stupid, I think,’ said Wych Hazel, as she went unwillingly forward,—­but she was getting wild, standing there!  ’I think I shall take the first one that comes, and save trouble.’

She sat down in front of the long mirror, in which she could see the whole room behind her:  everybody in it, and every motion of everybody.  But she really saw but one person, and he was motionless.  Others, gazing in, had a marvellous pretty picture of golden gauze and scarlet flowers, and a fair young face from which the gaiety had suddenly died out.  The breast of her dress was covered with ‘favours;’ basket and ring, bell and bouquet, a flag, a rosette, a pair of gloves,—­Rollo could not identify all the details of the harlequin crew; but it looked as if Miss Kennedy had been chosen by everybody, every time!  She sat still enough now.

‘Look up, child!’ cried Miss Fisher.  ’How do you expect to know who’s behind you, if you sit studying your pretty feet upon the floor?  You may flirt away an angel, and welcome some gentleman in black who was not invited.’

There was a laugh at this sally; and as several gentlemen sprang eagerly forward, Kitty began to hum—­’ “This is the maiden all forlorn,” ’—­but for once Hazel did not listen.

‘Flirt somebody away!’ she was thinking,—­’I should like to see myself doing it!  I shall take the very first that comes.’

But alas for good intentions in a bad place!  The room was long, and some people were further off, and others close at hand, and the very first that looked over her chair was Mr. Morton!  Hazel gave a toss of her handkerchief that half blew him away.  And the next—­yes, the very next, was the man whom she had been eluding all the evening.  This time the hand moved more languidly, and her eyes never looked up, and her cheeks rivalled the scarlet flowers.

‘She’ll learn,—­O, she’ll learn!’ cried Kitty Fisher.  ’Never saw it better done in my life.  Such a discriminating touch!’