the terrace were many seats, and the whole place was a
blaze of gay dresses, brilliant flowers, and happy, smiling faces.

It was here the _elite_ of the pleasure-seekers evidently meant to
congregate, and as Mrs. Bell intended, on this occasion at least, to
join herself to the select few, her object was to get on the terrace.
She had not at first, however, the courage to mount those five sacred
steps uninvited. The battery of eyes which would be immediately turned
upon her would be greater than even her high spirit could support. Mr.
Ingram had already spoken to her, she did not know Mrs. Bertram,
although she felt that if Catherine or Mabel were near she might call to
one of them, and make herself known as Matty's mother.

Catherine and Mabel were, however, several fields away engaged in a
vigorous game of archery. Mrs. Bell raised her fat face, and surveyed
the potentates of the terrace with anxiety.

"Keep close to me, Matty," she said to her eldest daughter. "Don't go
putting yourself in the background. It isn't becoming, seeing what will
be expected of you by-and-by. Now I wonder where the captain is! Mr.
Ingram is sure to make a fuss about those Bertrams, and that young man
will be expected to be at the beck and call of everybody all day long.
But never you mind, Matty, my pet. He shall have his chances, or my name
is not Tilly Bell."

"I wish ma wouldn't," whispered Sophy to Alice. "I don't believe Captain
Bertram cares a bit for Matty. Now, what are we all going to do! Oh,
dear, I quite shake in my shoes. Ma is awfully venturesome, and I know
we will be snubbed."

"Come on, girls," said Mrs. Bell looking over her shoulder. "What are
you loitering for? I see Mrs. Gorman Stanley at the back there, by one
of the big refreshment booths. I'm going to make for her."

"Oh, ma, she doesn't care a bit for us."

"Never mind, she'll do as an excuse. Now let's all keep close together."

Amongst the select company on the terrace Mrs. Bertram of course
found a foremost place. She was seated next to Lady Verney, whose
daughter, the Lady Georgiana Higginbotham also stood near, languidly
pulling a splendid gloire de Dijon rose to pieces. She was a tall,
sallow-faced girl, with the true aristocratic expression of
"I-won't-tell-you-anything-at-all" stamped on her face. She was to be
married the following week, and had all the airs of a bride-elect.

This young lady raised her pince nez to watch the Bells as they ascended