feel the want of a protector; or of somebody, as you
say, that you belong to.' Mr. Falkirk's brows were drawing
very thick together indeed.

'No, I think not,' she answered. 'Not intentionally. People
are very good to me; very respectful, I believe. But I must go
and see that my dress is in order. I shall wear blue to-night,
Mr. Falkirk--and you like blue.' She made him a profound little
courtesy, and danced off out of the room.

Mr. Falkirk's cogitations, to judge by his eyebrows, were also
profound, when his ward had left him alone. They did not issue
in any resolve to re-enter the gay world, however, which had
never been Mr. Falkirk's sphere; and Miss Kennedy went to Oak
Hill alone. Had she been made to 'feel her want of a
protector?'--On the contrary!--Or 'annoyed' in any other sense?--
that was far too soft a word. And so she stepped from her
carriage in company with many thoughts, and came out upon the
assembled light and colour as stately as if she had been the
only right line in the universe. A bevy of her friends were
round her directly.

'Hazel,' said Phinny Powder, 'we are going to run this concern
into a German as soon as it has run long enough in its own
name. I am so glad you are here; and in blue. Keep near me,
won't you, because it'll just set me off, and some dresses
kill me.'

'How can she keep near you, you giddy creature?' said Mme.
Lasalle. 'Hazel' (whispering), 'Stuart bade me engage you to
lead the German with him. May I tell him you will?'

'O Hazel,' cried Josephine again, 'we are going to have such
fun. Kitty is going to let us into some new figures, and they
are considerably jolly, I tell you!'

'Are they?' said Hazel. 'But the music comes first, Mme.
Lasalle, and I may not stay for the German. And I have
promised the first walk to Mr. May.'

'Not stay for the German!'--'_Not_ stay for the German?' was
echoed in so many various tones of despair that it had to be
answered again.

'I only said I might not,' said Wych Hazel. 'Good evening, Mr.
May.'--And Miss Kennedy swept off, to the opening burst of
music from the band.

Now there are other sounds besides music at a promenade
concert, and many things not strictly harmonious are said and
done under cover of its trombones and violins. Wych Hazel
indeed walked unremittingly,--it suited her mood that night;
but many sat and talked, very regardless of the music, and not
too mindful of other ears. And so after a while a group
gathere