aps a ride afield to greet the
neighbours, and fiddling and dancing in the two big quarters, Hank's and
Johnson's, when the tables were cleared after the bountiful feast Mr.
Carvel was wont to give them. There was no stint, my dears,--naught but
good cheer and praising God in sheer happiness at Carvel Hall.

At night there was always a ball, sometimes at Wilmot House, sometimes at
Colonel Lloyd's or Mr. Bordley's, and sometimes at Carvel Hall, for my
grandfather dearly loved the company of the young. He himself would lead
off the minuet,--save when once or twice his Excellency Governor Sharpe
chanced to be present,--and would draw his sword with the young gallants
that the ladies might pass under. And I have seen him join merrily in
the country dances too, to the clapping of hands of the company. That
was before Dolly and I were let upon the floor. We sat with the other
children, our mammies at our sides, in the narrow gallery with the tiny
rail that ran around the ball-room, where the sweet odour of the green
myrtleberry candles mixed with that of the powder and perfume of the
dancers. And when the beauty of the evening was led out, Dolly would
lean over the rail, and pout and smile by turns. The mischievous little
baggage could hardly wait for the conquering years to come.

They came soon enough, alack! The season Dorothy was fourteen, we had a
ball at the Hall the last day of the year. When she was that age she had
near arrived at her growth, and was full as tall as many young ladies of
twenty. I had cantered with her that morning from Wilmot House to Mr.
Lloyd's, and thence to Carvel Hall, where she was to stay to dinner. The
sun was shining warmly, and after young Harvey had taken our horses we
strayed through the house, where the servants were busy decorating, and
out into my grandfather's old English flower garden, and took the seat
by the sundial. I remember that it gave no shadow. We sat silent for
a while, Dorothy toying with old Knipe, lying at our feet, and humming
gayly the burden of a minuet. She had been flighty on the ride, with
scarce a word to say to me, for the prospect of the dance had gone to her
head.

"Have you a new suit to wear to-night, to see the New Year in, Master
Sober?" she asked presently, looking up. "I am to wear a brocade that
came out this autumn from London, and papa says I look like a duchess
when I have my grandmother's pearls."

"Always the ball!" cried I, slapping my boots in