“Bless me!” says he; “and can this be Richard’s little playmate grown?  Upon my word, Miss Dolly, you’ll be the belle of the ball.  Eh, Lloyd?  Bless me, bless me, you must not mind a kiss from an old man.  The young ones may have their turn after a while.”  He laughed as my grandfather only could laugh, and turned to me, who had reddened to my forehead.  “And so, Richard, she has outstripped you, fair and square.  You are only an awkward lad, and she—­why, i’ faith, in two years she’ll be beyond my protection.  Come, Miss Dolly,” says he; “I’ll show you the mistletoe, that you may beware of it.”

And he led her off on his arm.  “The old year and the new, gentlemen!” he cried merrily, as he passed the door, with Dolly’s mammy and Nester simpering with pride on the landing.

The company arrived in coach and saddle, many having come so far that they were to stay the night.  Young Mr. Beall carried his bride on a pillion behind him, her red riding-cloak flung over her ball dress.  Mr. Bordley and family came in his barge, Mr. Marmaduke and his wife in coach and four.  With them was Dr. Courtenay, arrayed in peach-coloured coat and waistcoat, with black satin breeches and white silk stockings, and pinchbeck buckles a-sparkle on his shoes.  How I envied him as he descended the stairs, stroking his ruffles and greeting the company with the indifferent ease that was then the fashion.  I fancied I saw his eyes wander among the ladies, and not marking her he crossed over to where I stood disconsolate before the fireplace.

“Why, Richard, my lad,” says he, “you are quite grown since I saw you.  And the little girl that was your playmate,—­Miss Dolly, I mean,—­has outstripped me, egad.  She has become suddenly une belle demoiselle, like a rose that blooms in a night.”

I answered nothing at all.  But I had given much to know whether my stolid manner disconcerted him.  Unconsciously I sought the bluff face above the chimney, depicted in all its ruggedness by the painter of King Charles’s day, and contrasted with the bundle of finery at my side.  Dr. Courtenay certainly caught the look.  He opened his snuff-box, took a pinch, turned on his heel, and sauntered off.

“What did you say, Richard?” asked Mr. Lloyd, coming up to me, laughing, for he had seen the incident.

“I looked merely at the man of Marston Moor, sir, and said nothing.”

“Faith, ’twas a better answer than if you had used your tongue, I think,” answered my friend.  But he teased me a deal that night when Dolly danced with the doctor, and my grandfather bade me look to my honours.  My young lady flung her head higher than ever, and made a minuet as well as any dame upon the floor, while I stood very glum at the thought of the prize slipping from my grasp.  Now and then, in the midst of a figure, she would shoot me an arch glance, as much as to say that her pinions were strong now.  But when it came to the country dances my lady comes up to me ever so prettily and asks the favour.