I have had the honor
of waiting on you or following in your track," said Death, gallantly.

"True; Fire has often preceded Death as his agent," assented Sybil.

"Say rather, that Death has often followed Fire as her servant."

"Enough of this. We seem to be well paired, at least. Let us get up and
walk."

Death bowed and offered his arm, and Fire arose and took it. And they
walked around the room, keeping outside the circle of the waltzers and
near the seats by the walls. But as they walked, many exclamations of
admiration, wonder, and awe struck their ears.

"Splendid creature! She moves like a spirit or a flame," exclaimed one.

"What a contrast to her companion! She all life and light, he all
darkness and death."

"It looks, as they walk side by side, as if she had burned him up and
consumed him to a skeleton of charred bones," said another.

"Horrible! Hush!" imperatively commanded a young lady, whose will, if it
did not enforce silence, modified expression.

Meanwhile Fire and Death went three times around the room. Then Fire
paused near a little corner _tete-a-tete_ sofa, on which a young girl,
dressed as Janet Foster the little Puritan, was seated quite alone; and
turning to her escort, she said:

"I am tired and thirsty. I will take this vacant seat for a while and
trouble you to go and fetch me a glass of lemonade."

"With pleasure!" gallantly assented Death, starting off promptly and
zealously to execute her commands.

Sybil seated herself beside the young girl on the sofa, and laying her
hand upon her shoulder, whispered:

"Trix."

"There!" exclaimed the girl, starting. "Every one knows me, even you."

"Well, everybody knows me also, even you," said Sybil.

"It is very provoking."

"Very."

"When I had taken so much pains to disguise myself too."

"Yes, and I also."

"_You?_ Why you took the very means to reveal your self, wearing a dress
so perfectly adapted to your nature. Anybody might have known you,"
pouted Trix.

"Yes, anybody _might_ have known me; but I do not think that anybody
_would_ have done so, if it had not been for a certain 'expert' who,
detecting the 'correspondences,' as he calls them, divulged the secret
to the whole room," explained Sybil.

"Well, somebody found you out, and did it by the fitness of your costume
too. But as for me, nothing could be more opposite in character than
Janet Foster the Puritan maiden, and Beatrix Pendleton the wild
huntress. We are