“Deny it!” I cried warmly; “I would as soon deny that you are an arrant flirt, Dorothy Manners, and will be a worse one.”

“Yes, I shall have my fling,” said the minx.  “I shall begin to-night, with you for an audience.  I shall make the doctor look to himself.  But there is the dressing-bell.”  And as we went into the house, “I believe my mother is a Whig, Richard.  All the Brices are.”

“And yet you are a Tory?”

“I am a loyalist,” says my lady, tossing her head proudly; “and we are one day to kiss her Majesty’s hand, and tell her so.  And if I were the Queen,” she finished in a flash, “I would teach you surly gentlemen not to meddle.”

And she swept up the stairs so stately, that Scipio was moved to say slyly:  “Dem’s de kind of ladies, Marse Richard, I jes dotes t’ wait on!”

Of the affair at King William’s School I shall tell later.

We had some dozen guests staying at the Hall for the ball.  At dinner my grandfather and the gentlemen twitted her, and laughed heartily at her apt retorts, and even toasted her when she was gone.  The ladies shook their heads and nudged one another, and no doubt each of the mothers had her notion of what she would do in Mrs. Manners’s place.  But when my lady came down dressed for the ball in her pink brocade with the pearls around her neck, fresh from the hands of Nester and those of her own tremulous mammy, Mr. Carvel must needs go up to her and hold her at arm’s length in admiration, and then kiss her on both her cheeks.  Whereat she blushed right prettily.

“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.