time. She leaned back in her chair, and did not look
up at Beaton after the first furtive glance, though she felt his eyes on
her.

The music began again almost at once, before Mela had time to make
Conrad tell her where Miss Vance had met him before. She would not have
minded interrupting the music; but every one else seemed so attentive,
even Christine, that she had not the courage. The concert went onto an
end without realizing for her the ideal of pleasure which one ought to
find in society. She was not exacting, but it seemed to her there were
very few young men, and when the music was over, and their opportunity
came to be sociable, they were not very sociable. They were not
introduced, for one thing; but it appeared to Mela that they might have
got introduced, if they had any sense; she saw them looking at her,
and she was glad she had dressed so much; she was dressed more than any
other lady there, and either because she was the most dressed of any
person there, or because it had got around who her father was, she felt
that she had made an impression on the young men. In her satisfaction
with this, and from her good nature, she was contented to be served with
her refreshments after the concert by Mr. March, and to remain joking
with him. She was at her ease; she let her hoarse voice out in her
largest laugh; she accused him, to the admiration of those near,
of getting her into a perfect gale. It appeared to her, in her own
pleasure, her mission to illustrate to the rather subdued people about
her what a good time really was, so that they could have it if they
wanted it. Her joy was crowned when March modestly professed himself
unworthy to monopolize her, and explained how selfish he felt in talking
to a young lady when there were so many young men dying to do so.

"Oh, pshaw, dyun', yes!" cried Mela, tasting the irony. "I guess I see
them!"

He asked if he might really introduce a friend of his to her, and she
said, Well, yes, if he thought he could live to get to her; and March
brought up a man whom he thought very young and Mela thought very old.
He was a contributor to 'Every Other Week,' and so March knew him; he
believed himself a student of human nature in behalf of literature, and
he now set about studying Mela. He tempted her to express her opinion on
all points, and he laughed so amiably at the boldness and humorous vigor
of her ideas that she was delighted with him. She asked him if he was
a New-Yo