remember which fourth was whose, giving her scraps to the first comer,
Rush and Fort, who had had the forethought not to pre-engage themselves,
and were constantly in her wake, secured more than their share. But the
other men had time and energy to fight for their own: Helena was
constantly stopped in the middle of the room with a firm demand that she
should keep her word. Between the dances the men crowded about her,
eager for a glance, and at supper the small table before her looked like
an offering at a Chinese funeral.

"Well," exclaimed Mrs. Washington, "I always said that no girl could be
a belle in this town nowadays, that the men didn't have gumption enough;
but I reckon it's because the rest of us haven't come up to the mark.
This looks like the stories they tell of old times."

"It makes me think of old times," said Mr. Sansome. "Makes me feel young
again; or older than ever. I can't decide which."

Tiny took her eclipse with unruffled philosophy, and divided her smiles
between two or three faithful suppliants. Ila had a very high colour,
and her primal fascination was less reserved than usual. Rose admired
Helena too extravagantly for jealousy, and what Caro felt no man ever
knew.

Colonel Belmont renewed his acquaintance with many of the women of his
youth, long neglected, although he had loved more than one of them in
his day. They filled his ears with praises of his beautiful daughter.
Helena's beauty was of that rare order which compels the willing
admiration of her own sex: it was not only indisputable, but it warmed
and irradiated. When Colonel Belmont was not talking, he stood against
the wall and followed her with adoring eyes. If she had been a
failure--admitting the possibility--his disappointment would have been
far keener than hers.

"You've cause to be proud, as proud as Lucifer," said Mr. Polk to him.
"But you ain't looking well, Jack. What's the matter?"

"I'm well enough. I shall live long enough to give her to someone who's
good enough for her, and that's all I care about--although I'm in no
hurry for that, either. But I'm _not_ feeling right smart, Hi; I don't
just know what's the matter."

"We're both getting old. I feel like a worked-out old cart-horse. But
you've got ten years the best of me, and I'll tell you what's the matter
with you: you can't switch off drink at your age after being two thirds
full for twenty-five years. We all need whiskey as we grow older, and
the more we'v