her in a minute. "My dear," said she,
"Mr. Griggs desires the honour of your hand for a quadrille." And
thus Rachel found herself standing up with the odious Mr. Griggs.
"I do so pity you," said Cherry, coming behind her for a moment.
"Remember, you need not do it more than once. I don't mean to do it
again."

After that she was allowed to sit still while a polka was being
performed. Mrs. Cornbury came to her saying a word or two; but she
did not stay with her long, so that Rachel could think about Luke
Rowan, and try to make up her mind as to what words she should say
to him. She furtively looked down upon her card and found that he
had written his own name to five dances, ending with Sir Roger de
Coverley at the close of the evening. It was quite impossible that
she should dance five dances with him, so she thought that she would
mark out two with her nail. The very next was one of them, and during
that she would explain to him what she had done. The whole thing
loomed large in her thoughts and made her feel anxious. She would
have been unhappy if he had not come to her at all, and now she was
unhappy because he had thrust himself upon her so violently,--or if
not unhappy, she was at any rate uneasy. And what should she say
about the elm-trees? Nothing, unless he spoke to her about them. She
fancied that he would say something about the arm in the cloud, and
if so, she must endeavour to make him understand that--that--that--.
She did not know how to fix her thoughts. Would it be possible to
make him understand that he ought not to have called her Rachel?

While she was thinking of all this Mr. Tappitt came and sat beside
her. "Very pretty; isn't it?" said he. "Very pretty indeed, I call
it."

"Oh yes, very pretty. I had no idea it would be so nice." To Mr.
Tappitt in his blue waistcoat she could speak without hesitation. Ah
me! It is the young men who receive all the reverence that the world
has to pay;--all the reverence that is worth receiving. When a man is
turned forty and has become fat, anybody can speak to him without
awe!

"Yes, it is nice," said Mr. Tappitt, who, however, was not quite
easy in his mind. He had been into the supper room, and had found
the waiter handling long-necked bottles, arranging them in rows,
apparently by the dozen. "What's that?" said he, sharply. "The
champagne, sir! there should have been ice, sir, but I suppose they
forgot it." Where had Mrs. T. procured all that wine? It was