It was the little flower-pot, in which I had planted a spray of lemon-scented verbena, which Viola had long coveted.  I explained how Harold had presided over it as an offering from the Hydriot Company to its youngest shareholder, and her delight was extreme.  She said she would keep it for ever in her own room; it was just what she wanted, the prettiest thing she had had—­so kind of him; but those great, grand giants never thought anything too little for them.  And then she went into one of her despairs.  She had prepared a number of Christmas presents for the people about the castle to whom she had always been like the child of the house, and her maid had forgotten to bring the box she had packed, nor was there any means of getting them, unless she could persuade her brother to send early the next morning.

“Is Dermot staying here?”

“Oh yes—­all night; and nobody else, except ourselves and Piggy.  Poor Piggy, he moves about in more awful awe of my uncle than ever—­ and so stiff!  I am always expecting to see him bristle!”

There came a message that my lady was ready, and was asking for Miss Tracy to go down with her.  Viola fluttered away, and I waited till they should have had time to descend before making my own appearance, finding all the rooms in the cleared state incidental to ball preparations—­all the chairs and tables shrunk up to the walls; and even the drawing-room, where the chaperons were to sit, looking some degrees more desolate than the drawing-room of a ladyless house generally does look.

Full in the midst of an immense blue damask sofa sat Lady Diana, in grey brocade.  She was rather a small woman in reality, but dignity made a great deal more of her.  Eustace, with a splendid red camellia in his coat, was standing by her, blushing, and she was graciously permitting the presentation of the squirting violet.  “Since it was a birthday, and it was a kind attention,” &c., but I could see that she did not much like it; and Viola, sitting on the end of the sofa with her eyes downcast, was very evidently much less delighted than encumbered with the fragile china thing.

Lord Erymanth met me, and led me up to his sister, who gave me a cold kiss, and we had a little commonplace talk, during which I could see Viola spring up to Harold, who was standing beside her brother, and the colour rising in his bronzed face at her eager acknowledgments of the flower-pot; after which she applied herself to begging her brother to let his horse and groom go over early the next morning for the Christmas gifts she had left behind, but Dermot did not seem propitious, not liking to trust the man he had with him with the precious Jack o’Lantern over hills slippery with frost; and Viola, as one properly instructed in the precariousness of equine knees, subsided disappointed; while I had leisure to look up at the two gentlemen standing there, and I must say that Harold looked one of Nature’s nobles even beside Dermot, and Dermot a fine, manly fellow even beside Harold, though only reaching to his shoulder.