dances engaged!"

"Oh, damn the other dances!" he exclaimed, but instead of being
offended, Turner only smiled.

Toward one o'clock there was a general movement to go. Henrietta Vance
and Mrs. Vance were inquired for, and the blue and white opera cloaks
reappeared, descending the stairs, disturbing the couples who were
seated there. The banging of carriage doors and the rumble of wheels
recommenced in the street. The musicians played a little longer. As the
party thinned out, there was greater dance room and a consequent greater
pleasure in dancing. These last dances at the end of the evening were
enjoyed more than all the others. But the party was breaking up fast:
Turner had already gone home; Mrs. Vance and Henrietta were back at
their places in front of the mantel, surrounded by a group of gentlemen
in capecoats and ladies in opera wraps. Every one was crying "Good-bye"
or "Good night!" and assuring Mrs. Vance and Henrietta of the
enjoyableness of the occasion. Suddenly the musicians played "Home Sweet
Home." Those still dancing uttered an exclamation of regret, but
continued waltzing to this air the same as ever. Some began to dance
again in their overcoats and opera wraps. Then at last the tired
musicians stopped and reached for the cases of their instruments, and
the remaining guests, seized with a sudden panic lest they should be the
last to leave, fled to the dressing-rooms. These were in the greatest
confusion, every one was in a hurry; in the gentlemen's dressing-room
there was a great putting on of coats and mufflers and a searching for
misplaced gloves, hats and canes. A base hum of talk rose in the air,
bits and ends of conversation being tossed back and forth across the
room. "_You_ haven't seen my hat, have you, Jimmy?" "Did you meet that
girl I was telling you about?" "Hello, old man! have a good time
to-night?" "Lost your hat? No, I haven't seen it." "Yes, about half-past
ten!" "Well, I told him that myself!" "Ah, you bet it's the man that
rustles that gets there." "Come round about four, then." "What's the
matter with coming home in _our_ carriage?"

At the doors of the dressing-rooms the ladies joined their escorts, and
a great crowd formed in the halls, worming down the stairs and out upon
the front steps. As the first groups reached the open air there was a
great cry: "Why, it's pouring rain!" This was taken up and repeated and
carried all the way back into the house. There were exclamations of