than the rest of us, has not been taking part in
the dance.

"Nancy! Nancy!" in a tone of hurried excitement, "for the love of Heaven
look at _father_! If you stand on tiptoe you will be able to see him; he
has been _gallopading_! When I saw his venerable coat-tails flying, a
feather would have knocked me down! You really ought to see it"
(lowering his voice confidentially), "it might give you an idea about
your own old man, and the old Wam--"

"_Hang_ the old Wampoo!" cry I, with inelegant force, laughing.

The duty part of the evening is over now. We have all signalized
ourselves by feats of valor. I have scampered through an unsociable
country-dance with the head coachman, and have had my smart gown of
faint pink and pearl color nearly torn off my back by the
ponderous-footed pair that trip directly after me. We have, in fact,
done our duty, and may retire as soon as we like. But the music has got
into our feet, and we promise ourselves one valse among ourselves before
we depart.

The Brat is the only exception. He still cleaves to his cook; dancing
with her is a _tour de force_, on which he piques himself. Mrs. Huntley
and Algy are already flying down the room in an active, tender embrace.
I have been asked as long ago as before dinner by Mr. Musgrave. I was
rather surprised and annoyed at his inviting _me_ instead of Barbara;
but as, with this exception, his conduct has been unequivocally
demonstrative, I console myself with the notion that he looks upon me as
the necessary pill to which Barbara will be the subsequent jam.

The first bars of the valse are playing when Bobby comes bustling up.
Healthy jollity and open mirth are written all over his dear, fat face.

"Come along, Nancy! let us have _one_ more scamper before we die!"

"I am engaged to Mr. Musgrave," reply I, with a graceless and
discontented curl of lip, and raising of nose.

"All right!" says Bobby, philosophically, walking away; "I am sure I do
not mind, only I had a fancy for having _one_ more spin with you."

"So you shall!" cry I, impulsively, with a sharp thought of Hong-Kong,
running after him, and putting his solid right arm round my waist.

Away we go in mad haste. Like most sailors, Bobby dances well. I am
nothing very wonderful, but I suit _him_. In many musicless waltzings of
winter evenings, down the lobby at home, we have learned to fit each
other's step exactly. At our first pausing to recover breath, I become
sensible of a fa