l important festivities were held in its
long dining-hall disguised as a ballroom. The ball was given by a gallant
Delisleville Club in honour of Miss Delia Vanuxem, and it was a very
magnificent affair indeed. The disguise of the dining-room was complete.
It was draped with flags and decorated with wreaths of cedar and paper
roses. A band of coloured gentlemen, whose ardour concealed any slight
musical discrepancies, assisted the festivities, which--to quote the
_Oriflamme_ of the next morning--"the wealth, beauty, and chivalry of
Delisleville combined to render unequalled in their gaiety and elegance,
making the evening one of the most successful of the piquant occasions

When youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."

Usually Tom's part in such festivities was to sit uncomfortably in dull
corners, taking up as little room as possible, or piloting his way
carefully through the crowd to the supper-table with an elderly lady or a
wall-flower clinging timidly to his huge arm. But during this one evening
he lost his equilibrium. Delia had been more than usually kind to him,
perhaps because she saw his unhappy awkwardness as he towered above
everyone else and tried to avoid treading upon his neighbours. She gave
him such a pretty smile across the room that he obeyed the impulse to go
to her and stand at her side; then, when she left him to dance with De
Courcy, she gave him her fan and bouquet and fleecy white wrap to hold,
and somehow it seemed not unnatural that De Courcy should bring her back
to him as to a sentinel when the dance was over. Thus it was as she sat,
flushed a little and smiling, her face uplifted to his, while she thanked
him for taking care of her possessions, that the wild thought which so
betrayed him rushed into his brain.

"Delia," he faltered, "will you dance once with me?"

It was so startling a request, that, though she was quick enough to
conceal her surprise, she hesitated a second before recovering her breath
to give him her answer.

"Yes, Tom, if you like," she said, and glanced down at her programme.
"The next is a waltz, and I can let you have it because Dr. Ballentine
has been called away. Do you waltz?"

"I have learned," he answered, rather huskily and tremulously. "I do it
badly, of course, but I know the steps well enough."

He was so helpless with nervousness that he could scarcely speak, and his
hands trembled when they stoo