-all very well for a young
fellow, but you got tired of it. Still, there was a certain flavour
about a Court Ball, even for a one-time subaltern in the Blues, who had
taken part in everything that was going on. Other people scrambled for
such things--they had to if they wanted them, and why they should want
them if they didn't come to them naturally, the Squire couldn't tell. To
a man of the importance of Edward Clinton of Kencote, they came as a
matter of course, and he accepted them as his due, but was pleased, too,
at having his social importance recognised in such a way, without his
stirring a finger. As a matter of cold fact, a finger had been stirred
to procure this particular honour, although it had not been his. But of
that he was not aware.

The carriage drove slowly with the rest into the big court-yard, where a
military band was playing bright music. Cicely suddenly felt exhilarated
and expectant. They drove up before the great entrance, red-carpeted,
brightly lit, and went through the hall up the stairs into the
cloak-room. Cicely had a flush on her cheeks now as she waited for her
mother, who seemed to be taking an interminable time to settle her lace
and her jewels. Mrs. Clinton looked her over and her eyes brightened a
little. "Are you nervous, darling?" she asked; and Cicely said, "No,
mother, not a bit." The scent of flowers was in her nostrils, the
strains of the music expectantly in her ears. She was going to dance in
a royal palace, and she was such a country mouse that she was excited at
the prospect of seeing royalty at close quarters. She had been far too
nervous to take in anything when she had been presented, and that had
been four years ago.

They went out and found the Squire waiting for them. He did not ask
them, as he generally did, why they had been so long.

They seemed to go through interminable wide corridors, decorated in red
and gold, with settees against the walls and beautiful pictures hanging
above them, but came at last to the great ball-room.

Cicely drew her breath as she entered. This was better than the
Meadshire County Ball, or the South Meadshire Hunt Ball. The women were
mostly in white, or pale colours, but their jewels were beyond anything
she had ever imagined. The lights from the great lustre chandeliers
seemed to be reflected in those wonderful clusters and strings and
devices of sparkling gems. Cold white and cold fire for the women,
colour for the men. Scarlet and