rtenay made his bow, his hat tucked under his arm. But he had
much to learn of Miss Manners if he thought that even one who had been
governor of the province could command her. The music was just begun
again, and I making off in the direction of Patty Swain, when I was
brought up as suddenly as by a rope. A curl was upon Dorothy's lips.

"The dance belongs to Richard, doctor," she said.

"Egad, Courtenay, there you have a buffer!" cried Colonel Sharpe, as the
much-discomfited doctor bowed with a very ill grace; while I, in no small
bewilderment, walked off with Dorothy. And a parting shot of the
delighted colonel brought the crimson to my face. Like the wind or April
weather was my lady, and her ways far beyond such a great simpleton as I.

"So I am ever forced to ask you to dance!" said Dolly.

"What were you about, moping off alone, with a party in your
honour, sir?"

"I was watching you, as I told his Excellency."

"Oh, fie!" she cried. "Why don't you assert yourself, Richard? There
was a time when you gave me no peace."

"And then you rebuked me for dangling," I retorted.

Up started the music, the fiddlers bending over their bows with flushed
faces, having dipped into the cool punch in the interval. Away flung my
lady to meet Singleton, while I swung Patty, who squeezed my hand in
return. And soon we were in the heat of it,--sober minuet no longer, but
romp and riot, the screams of the lasses a-mingle with our own laughter,
as we spun them until they were dizzy. My brain was a-whirl as well, and
presently I awoke to find Dolly pinching my arm.

"Have you forgotten me, Richard?" she whispered. "My other hand, sir.
It is I down the middle."

Down we flew between the laughing lines, Dolly tripping with her head
high, and then back under the clasped hands in the midst of a fire of
raillery. Then the music stopped. Some strange exhilaration was in
Dorothy.

"Do you remember the place where I used to play fairy godmother, and wind
the flowers into my hair?" said she.

What need to ask?

"Come!" she commanded decisively.

"With all my heart!" I exclaimed, wondering at this new caprice.

"If we can but slip away unnoticed, they will never find us there," she
said. And led the way herself, silent. At length we came to the damp
shade where the brook dived under the corner of the wall. I stooped to
gather the lilies of the valley, and she wove them into her hair as of
old. Suddenly she stopped, the bunch poi