“Associate with the Tinleys,” returned Adela.

In accordance with the sentiment here half concealed, Brookfield soon showed that it had risen from the hour of depression when it had simply done its duty.  Arabella formed an opposition-Court to the one in which she had studied; but Mr. Pericles defeated her by constantly sending to her for advice concerning the economies of the feast.  Nevertheless, she exhibited good pretensions to social queendom, both personal and practical; and if Freshfield Sumner, instead of his crisp waspish comments on people and things, had seconded her by keeping up a two-minutes’ flow of talk from time to time, she might have thought that Lady Gosstre was only luckier than herself—­not better endowed.

Below, the Tinleys and their set surrounded Mr. Pericles—­prompting him, as was seen, to send up continual messages.  One, to wit, “Is there to be dancing to-night?” being answered, “Now, if you please,” provoked sarcastic cheering; and Laura ran up to say, “How kind of you!  We appreciate it.  Continue to dispense blessings on poor mortals.”

“By the way, though” (Freshfield took his line from the calm closed lips of his mistress), “poor mortals are not in the habit of climbing Olympus to ask favours.”

“I perceived no barrier,” quoth Laura.

“Audacity never does.”

“Pray, how am I to be punished?”

Freshfield paused for a potent stroke.  “Not like Semele.  She saw the God:—­you never will!”

While Laura was hanging on the horrid edge between a false laugh and a starting blush, Arabella said:  “That visual excommunication has been pronounced years ago, Freshfield.”

“Ah! then he hasn’t changed his name in heaven?” Laura touched her thus for the familiar use of the gentle-man’s Christian name.

“You must not imagine that very great changes are demanded of those who can be admitted.”

“I really find it hotter than below,” said Laura, flying.

Arabella’s sharp eyes discerned a movement in Lady Gosstre’s circle; and she at once went over to her, and entreated the great lady, who set her off so well, not to go.  The sunset fronted Besworth Lawn; the last light of day was danced down to inspiriting music:  and now Arabella sent word for Besworth hall-doors and windows to be opened; and on the company beginning to disperse, there beckoned promise of a brilliant supper-table.

“Admirable!” said Lady Gosstre, and the encomium was general among the crowd surrounding Arabella; for up to this point the feasting had been delicate, and something like plain hunger prevailed.  Indeed, Arabella had heard remarks of a bad nature, which she traced to the Tinley set, and bore with, to meet her present reward.  Making light of her triumph, she encouraged Freshfield to start a wit-contest, and took part in it herself, with the gaiety of an unoccupied mind.  Her sisters had aforetime more than once challenged her supremacy, but they bowed