our minds."

"But you threw me over, Lavinia, and broke my heart," laughed Temple
with a low bow, his palms flattened against his waistcoat in assumed
humility.

"When?"

"Oh, twenty years ago."

"Oh, my goodness gracious! Of course I threw you over then;--you were
just a baby in arms and I was old enough to be your mother--but now it's
different. I'm dying to get married and nobody wants me. If you were a
Virginian instead of a doubting Marylander, you would have asked me a
hundred times and kept on asking until I gave in. Now it's too late.
I always intended to give in, but you were so stupid you couldn't or
wouldn't understand."

"It's never too late to mend, Lavinia," he prayed with hands extended.

"It's too late to mend you, St. George! You are cracked all over, and as
for me--I'm ready to fall to pieces any minute. I'm all tied up now with
corset laces and stays and goodness knows what else. No--I'm done with
you."

While this merry badinage was going on, the young people crowding the
closer so as not to lose a word, or making room for the constant stream
of fresh arrivals on their way toward the dressing-rooms above, their
eyes now and then searching the top of the stairs in the hope of getting
the first glimpse of Kate, our heroine was receiving the final touches
from her old black mammy. It took many minutes. The curl must be
adjusted, the full skirts pulled out or shaken loose, the rare jewels
arranged before she was dismissed with--"Dah, honey chile, now go-long.
Ain't nary one on 'em ain't pizen hongry for ye--any mos' on 'em 'll
drown derselves 'fo' mawnin' becos dey can't git ye."

She is ready now, Harry beside her, her lace scarf embroidered with pink
rosebuds floating from her lovely shoulders, her satin skirt held firmly
in both hands that she might step the freer, her dainty silk stockings
with the ribbons crossed about her ankles showing below its edge.

But it was the colonel who took possession of her when she reached the
floor of the great hall, and not her father nor her lover.

"No, Harry--stand aside, sir. Out with you! Kate goes in with me!
Seymour, please give your arm to Mrs. Rutter." And with the manner of a
courtier leading a princess into the presence of her sovereign, the
Lord of Moorlands swept our Lady of Kennedy Square into the brilliant
drawing-room crowded with guests.

It was a great ball and it was a great ballroom--in spaciousness, color,
and appointments. No one