ust a
minute--I've seen Mr Gallup since that night he came to tell us about
Buz . . ."

"You've met?" Mrs Ffolliot exclaimed, "where? and why have you never
told me?"

"It was while you were away. Miss Gallup had been ill and I went to
ask for her and he was there, and he walked home with me . . ."

Mrs Ffolliot raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, you think it funny too? It couldn't be helped--old Miss Gallup
seemed to think it was the proper thing and sent him--and father was
waiting for me at the gate and was awfully cross. . . . Mother, how
_did_ you persuade him to let you ask Mr Gallup?"

Mrs Ffolliot turned to her dressing-table and began to collect fan and
handkerchief. She looked in the glass and saw Mary behind her, eager,
radiant, slim, upright, and gloriously young. She began to see why
father was so awfully cross. There was more excuse than usual.

"Why don't you answer me, mother? didn't you hear what I said?"

"I heard, my darling. Father needed no persuasion. He simply changed
his mind; but I can't think why you never told me you had met Mr Gallup
already."

Mary blushed. The warm colour dyed forehead and neck and ears, and
faded into the exceedingly white chest and shoulders, revealed to the
world for the first time.

Mrs Ffolliot saw all this in the glass, wondered if she could have
imagined it, and turned to face her daughter.

"Mother"--what honest eyes the child had, to be sure--"it wasn't the
first time I'd spoken to him."

"Really, Mary, you are very mysterious----"

"I met him in the woods once before Christmas, and he was lost, and I
showed him the way out, and father saw us . . . and was just as cross."

Mrs Ffolliot felt more in sympathy with her husband than usual. But
all she said was, "Well, well, it's evident you don't need an
introduction. I forgot you'd seen him when he called. I'm glad you
told me in time to prevent it, or he would have thought it so
odd--come, my child, we must go down."

"_You_ aren't cross, are you, mother?" Mary asked wistfully.

"Cross!" Mrs Ffolliot repeated, "at your first party. What is there to
be cross about? Yes, my child, that dress is quite charming--father
was right, you can stand that dead white--but it's trying to some
people--come."

The Campions called for Eloquent, and he found himself seated side by
side with Sir George on one of the little seats, while Lady Campion and
a pretty niece called Miss Bax sat opposite. Miss Bax w