o ordinary figures first, but
watched by Wych Hazel with eager eyes.

'Yes, of course!' she said to herself, as Kitty Fisher went
round with her head on her partner's shoulder,--'if he thought
I did that.' _Could_ he think it?--the little white glove tips so
nearly withdrew themselves from the black coat-sleeve they
were touching, that Mr. May turned to ask if she was tired and
wished to sit down.

But motions that were pretty to look at followed: each couple
in turn passing through an avenue of little coloured flags,
which held out by the motionless couples on either side, met
and crossed over the heads of the dancers. Down came Stuart
Nightingale and Miss Fisher, and Mr. Burr and Phinny Powder,
and Major Seaton and Miss May,--Wych Hazel looked on, smiling,
and with a stir of her little right foot. How often she had
come down just so! Then began a figure that she did not know:
they were going to 'practise,' Kitty Fisher called out,
recommending her to come.

'You won't know how next time.'

'Thank you, I can learn by looking on.'

And so she stood still and watched. Watched to see the ladies,
armed with long reins and a whip, driving their partners
cheerfully from point to point, with appropriate gestures and
sounds and frolic. The little bells tinkled gleefully, the
many-coloured leading-strings mingled in a kaleidoscope
pattern.

'Symbolical,' Mr. Kingsland remarked, standing near. 'This is
the "Bridle" figure, Miss Kennedy.'

'Unbridled' would be a better name, Miss Kennedy thought, but
she said not a word; only her lips curled disdainfully. But,
'driving men is easy work,' as Phinney Powder said, and so
this 'practice' soon gave way to another still more striking.
The ladies ranged themselves, standing well apart from each
other, and among the gentlemen was a general flutter of white
handkerchiefs. What were they going to do? 'Bonds' was the
word that occurred to Hazel this time, as she stood leaning a
little forward in interested expectation. And so it proved,--
but not just as she had expected. To be tied by the hand would
be bad enough, but by the foot!--and yet,--yes, certainly Major
Seaton's handkerchief was round Kitty Fisher's pretty ankle--to
the discomfiture of several other handkerchiefs of like
intentions,--and Miss Powder had Stuart Nightingale at her
feet,--and Phinny--

But who did it for whom, Wych Hazel scarcely thought until
afterwards. She looked on for a minute at the scuffling,
l