Dicky Browne gives way to speech.

"I am now quite convinced," he says, slowly, "that to watch the making
of plum jam is the most enthralling sport in the world. It was so kind
of you, dear Dulce, to ask us to go down to see it. I don't know _when_
I have enjoyed myself so much."

"We have been disgracefully taken in," says Julia, warmly.

"And she didn't even offer us a single plum!" says Mr. Browne,
tearfully.

"You shall have some presently, with your tea," says Dulce,
remorsefully. "Let us go and sit upon the verandah, and say what we
thought of our dance. No one has said anything about it yet."

Though late in September, it is still "one of those heavenly days that
cannot die." The sun is warm in the heavens, though gradually sinking,
poor tired god, toward his hard-earned rest. There are many
softly-colored clouds on the sky.

Tea is brought to them presently, and plums for Dicky; and then they are
all, for the most part, happy.

"Well, I think it was a deadly-lively sort of an evening," says Mr.
Browne, candidly, _apropos_ of the ball. "Every one seemed cross, I
think, and out of sorts. For my own part, there were moments when I
suffered great mental anguish."

"Well, I don't know," says Sir Mark, "for my part, I enjoyed myself
rather above the average. Good music, good supper--the champagne I must
congratulate you about, Dulce--and very pretty women. What more could
even a Sybarite like Dicky desire? Mrs. George Mainwaring was there, and
I got on capitally with her. I like a woman who prefers sitting it out,
_some_ times."

"I don't think I even saw Mrs. George," says Dulce. "Was she here?"

"You couldn't see her," says Roger; "she spent her entire evening in the
rose-colored ante-room with Gore."

"What a shameless tarradiddle," says Sir Mark.

"What did she wear?" asks Julia.

"I can't remember. I think, however, she was all black and blue."

"Good gracious!" says Dicky Browne, "has George Mainwaring been at it
again? Poor soul, it _is_ hard on her. I thought the last kicking he had
from her brother would have lasted him longer than a month."

"Nonsense, Dicky," says Dulce; "I hear they are getting on wonderfully
well together now."

"I'm glad to hear it," says Dicky, in a tone totally unconvinced.

"I don't think she is at all respectable," says Mrs. Beaufort, severely;
"she--she--her dress was _very_ odd, I thought--"

"There might, perhaps, have been a little more of it," says Dicky