ts, I don't see where the lie would come in. But, as you do,
of course I shall say nothing," says Kelly.

"What a Pygmalion!" says Olga, in high disgust. "And what a speech!
Contemptible! I don't believe any Galatea would come to life beneath
_your_ touch. It would be cold as the marble itself!"

So saying, she moves away to where Monica is standing, looking quite the
sweetest thing in the world, as

"A nun demure, of lowly port."

"She has prophesied truly," says Kelly, in a low tone, turning to Mrs.
Herrick. "I fear _my_ Galatea will never wake to life for _me_."

A subdued bell tinkles in the distance.

"Our summons," says Mrs. Herrick, hastily, as though grateful to it; and
presently she is standing upon a pedestal, pale motionless, with a rapt
Pygmalion at her feet, and some Pompeian vases and jugs (confiscated
from the drawing-room) in the background.

And then follow the other tableaux, and then the stage is deserted, and,
music sounding in the distant ballroom, every one rises and makes a step
in its direction, the hearts of some of the younger guests beating in
time to it.

"Where are you going?" says Ulic Ronayne, seeing Olga about to mount the
stairs once more.

"To help the others to get into civilized garb,--Hermia and Monica, I
mean. Lady Teazle I consider capable of looking after herself."

"H'm! you say that? I thought Miss Fitzgerald was a friend of yours."

"Then you thought like the baby you are. No! Women, like princes, find
few real friends. But one in a hundred can fill that character
gracefully, and Bella is _not_ that one."

She turns to run up the stairs. "Well, don't be long," says Mr. Ronayne.

"I'll be ready in a minute," she says; and in twenty-five she really
_is_.

Monica, who has had Kit to help her,--such an admiring, enthusiastic,
flattering Kit,--is soon redressed, and has run down stairs, and nearly
into Desmond's arms, who, of course, is waiting on the lowest step to
receive her. She is now waltzing with him, with a heart as light as her
feet.

Hermia's progress has been slow, but Miss Fitzgerald's slowest of all,
the elaborate toilet and its accessories taking some time to arrange
themselves; she has been annoyed, too, by Olga Bohun, during the earlier
part of the evening, and consequently feels it her duty to stay in her
room for a while and take it out of her maid. So long is she, indeed,
that Madam O'Connor (most attentive of hostesses) feels it her duty to