“Well, good-bye, then, Mother—­good-bye, lad—­remember Gyp when you get home,” said Adam, turning away towards the gate of the pleasure-grounds, where he hoped he might be able to join the Poysers, for he had been so occupied throughout the afternoon that he had had no time to speak to Hetty.  His eye soon detected a distant group, which he knew to be the right one, returning to the house along the broad gravel road, and he hastened on to meet them.

“Why, Adam, I’m glad to get sight on y’ again,” said Mr. Poyser, who was carrying Totty on his arm.  “You’re going t’ have a bit o’ fun, I hope, now your work’s all done.  And here’s Hetty has promised no end o’ partners, an’ I’ve just been askin’ her if she’d agreed to dance wi’ you, an’ she says no.”

“Well, I didn’t think o’ dancing to-night,” said Adam, already tempted to change his mind, as he looked at Hetty.

“Nonsense!” said Mr. Poyser.  “Why, everybody’s goin’ to dance to-night, all but th’ old squire and Mrs. Irwine.  Mrs. Best’s been tellin’ us as Miss Lyddy and Miss Irwine ‘ull dance, an’ the young squire ’ull pick my wife for his first partner, t’ open the ball:  so she’ll be forced to dance, though she’s laid by ever sin’ the Christmas afore the little un was born.  You canna for shame stand still, Adam, an’ you a fine young fellow and can dance as well as anybody.”

“Nay, nay,” said Mrs. Poyser, “it ‘ud be unbecomin’.  I know the dancin’s nonsense, but if you stick at everything because it’s nonsense, you wonna go far i’ this life.  When your broth’s ready-made for you, you mun swallow the thickenin’, or else let the broth alone.”

“Then if Hetty ’ull dance with me,” said Adam, yielding either to Mrs. Poyser’s argument or to something else, “I’ll dance whichever dance she’s free.”

“I’ve got no partner for the fourth dance,” said Hetty; “I’ll dance that with you, if you like.”

“Ah,” said Mr. Poyser, “but you mun dance the first dance, Adam, else it’ll look partic’ler.  There’s plenty o’ nice partners to pick an’ choose from, an’ it’s hard for the gells when the men stan’ by and don’t ask ’em.”

Adam felt the justice of Mr. Poyser’s observation:  it would not do for him to dance with no one besides Hetty; and remembering that Jonathan Burge had some reason to feel hurt to-day, he resolved to ask Miss Mary to dance with him the first dance, if she had no other partner.

“There’s the big clock strikin’ eight,” said Mr. Poyser; “we must make haste in now, else the squire and the ladies ‘ull be in afore us, an’ that wouldna look well.”

When they had entered the hall, and the three children under Molly’s charge had been seated on the stairs, the folding-doors of the drawing-room were thrown open, and Arthur entered in his regimentals, leading Mrs. Irwine to a carpet-covered dais ornamented with hot-house plants, where she and Miss Anne were to be seated with old Mr. Donnithorne, that they might look on at the dancing, like the kings and queens in the plays.  Arthur had put on his uniform to please the tenants, he said, who thought as much of his militia dignity as if it had been an elevation to the premiership.  He had not the least objection to gratify them in that way:  his uniform was very advantageous to his figure.