nd put some more on."

He is looking at me, with an infinite amusement, and also commendation,
in his eyes.

"Why, Nancy," he says, smiling--"I had no idea that you were so vain!"

"No," reply I, bubbling over again into a shamefaced yet delighted
laughter--"no more had I! But then I had no idea that I was so pretty,
either."

My elation remains undiminished when I go down-stairs. Yes, even when I
compare myself with Mrs. Huntley, for, _for once_, I have beaten her! I
really think that there can be no two opinions about it! indeed, I have
the greatest difficulty in refraining from asking everybody whether
there can.

She is not in powder. Her hair, in its present color, is hardly dark
enough to suit the high comb, and black lace mantilla which she has
draped about her head, and the red rose in her hair is hardly redder
than the catarrh has made her eyelids. A cold always comes on more
heavily at night; and no one can deny that her whole appearance is
stuffy and choky, and that she speaks through her nose.

As for me, I am not sure that I do not beat even _Barbara_. At least,
the idea has struck me; and, when she herself suggests, and with hearty
satisfaction, and elation not inferior to my own, insists upon it, I do
not think it necessary to contradict her.

None of the three young men have as yet made their appearance; and the
guests are beginning quickly to arrive. All the neighbors--all the
friends who are staying with the neighbors to shoot their
partridges--some soldiers, some odds and ends, _bushels_ of girls--there
always are bushels of girls somehow; here they come, smiling, settling
their ties, giving their skirts furtive kicks behind, as their different
sex and costume bid them.

All the duties of reception fall upon the poor old gentleman, and drive
him to futile wrath, and to sending off many loud and desperate messages
to his truant heir. However, to do him justice, the poor old soul is
hospitality itself, and treats his guests, not only to the best food,
drink, and fiddling in his power, but also to all his primest anecdotes.
No less than _three_ times in the course of the evening do I hear him go
through that remarkable tale of the doctor at Norwich, of the age of
seventy-eight, and the four fine children.

To my immense delight, hardly anybody recognizes me. Many people look
_hard_--really _very_ hard--at me, and I try to appear modestly
unconscious.

We are all in the dancing-room. The shar