Mrs Boncassen seemed to be a homely person, with no desire either to speak, or to be spoken to.  She went out but seldom, and on those rare occasions did not in any way interfere with her daughter.  Mr Boncassen filled a prouder situation.  Everybody knew that Miss Boncassen was in England because it suited Mr Boncassen to spend many hours in the British Museum.  But still the daughter hardly seemed to be under control from her father.  She went alone where she liked; talked to those she liked; and did what she liked.  Some of the young ladies of the day thought that there was a good deal to be said in favour of the freedom which she enjoyed.

There is however a good deal to be said against it.  All young ladies cannot be Miss Boncassens, with such an assurance of admirers as to be free from all fear of loneliness.  There is comfort for a young lady in having a pied-a-terre to which she may retreat in case of need.  In American circles, where girls congregate without their mothers, there is a danger felt by young men that if a lady be once taken in hand, there will be no possibility of getting rid of her,—­no mamma to whom she may be taken and under whose wings she may be dropped.  ‘My dear,’ said an old gentleman the other day walking through an American ball-room, and addressing himself to a girl whom he knew well,—­’My dear—­’ But the girl bowed and passed on, still clinging to the arm of the young man who accompanied her.  But the old gentleman was cruel, and possessed of a determined purpose.  ‘My dear,’ he said again, catching the young man tightly by the collar and holding him fast.  ’Don’t be afraid; I’ve got him; he shan’t desert you; I’ll hold him here till you have told me how your father does.’  The young lady looked as if she didn’t like it, and the sight of her misery gave rise to a feeling that, after all, mammas perhaps may be a comfort.

But in her present phase of life Miss Boncassen suffered no misfortune of this kind.  It had become a privilege to be allowed to attend upon Miss Boncassen, and the feeling of this privilege had been enhanced by the manner in which Lord Silverbridge had devoted himself to her.  Fashion of course makes fashion.  Had not Lord Silverbridge been so very much struck by the charm of the young lady, Lords Glasslough and Popplecourt would not perhaps have found it necessary to run after her.  As it was, even that most unenergetic of young men, Dolly Longstaff, was moved to profound admiration.

On this occasion they were all up the river at Maidenhead.  Mr Boncassen had looked about for some means of returning the civilities offered to him, and had been instigated by Mrs Montacute Jones to do it after this fashion.  There was a magnificent banquet spread in a summer-house on the river bank.  There were boats, and there was a band, and there was a sward for dancing.  There was lawn-tennis, and fishing-rods,—­which nobody used,—­and better still, long shady secluded walks in which gentlemen might stroll,—­and