ll fed; and the deferred
opening of the supper-room has sealed the fate of many a dance which
but for that had been voted pleasant enough. Lionel Beauchamp and his
_confreres_ determined to fall into no such mistake. No sooner are
their friends on board and the steamer cast off from her moorings than
the signal is given for lunch. The day is so fine that it has been
decided to go down nearly to the Nore. With scarce a ripple on the
water, even those who have no confidence whatever in their sea-going
capabilities can feel no terror of _mal de mer_. The whole affair is
an undoubted success. Mr. Cottrell himself pronounces the luncheon not
only satisfactory, but indicative of much promise as regards dinner
later on. The gay crowd breaks into knots and parties all over the
decks. Now listening to the ballad some swarth Spaniard trills forth
to his guitar, anon laughing at some buffo song humorously rendered by
a well-known comedian, while ever and again Beauchamp and his brethren
clear a space on the deck, and a valse or two becomes the order of the
day.

"A very charming party, Miss Blanche, don't you think so?" remarked Mr.
Cottrell, as he sauntered up to that young lady's side. "Have you been
forward to look at what they call the 'Fair'? You can shoot for nuts,
look at peep-shows, play _roulette_ for gingerbread; in fact, indulge
in all the amusements of childhood."

"No; the whole thing is no doubt very well done, but I don't feel
myself to-day. I am not quite up to the sort of thing. Stupid of me
to come. People should keep themselves to themselves when not in the
vein for society."

"Ah," rejoined Mr. Cottrell, laughing, "not in the vein for society is
a charming phrase. It embraces so much, and defines it so vaguely.
Not in the vein for society may mean that we want our lunch; that some
one we wanted to meet has not come; that we have fallen to the charge
of the wrong person. I always feel that my being in the vein for
society depends a good deal upon what the society consists of. Every
now and then I get somebody to take down to dinner that makes me sigh
for the Desert of Sahara. Now, I wonder what's wrong with you to-day?"

"Had too much of London, I fancy," replied Blanche, smiling. "I want
to get back to Todborough. These headaches never trouble me there."

"Who was the shocking old infidel who declared young ladies' headaches
were simply heartaches? What mistakes we make by seeing things