ring countenance of Jock. Both of these gentlemen
were eagerly questioned by the ladies next them as to who this young
lady might be.

"Terribly theatrical, don't you think, to come into a room like that?"
said the mother of the girls in blue. "If my Minnie or Edith had been
asked to do it they would have died of shame."

"I do not deny," said Mr. Derwentwater, "the advantage of conventional
restraints. I like the little airs of seclusion, of retirement, that
surround young ladies. But the----" he paused a little for a name, and
then with that acquaintance with foreign ways on which Mr. Derwentwater
prided himself, added, "the Signorina was at home."

"The Signorina! Is that what you call her--just like a person that is
going on the stage. She will be the--niece, I suppose?"

Jock's next neighbour was the lady who was engaged in literature. She
said to Jock: "I must get you to tell me her name. She is lovely. She
will make a great sensation. I must make a few notes of her dress after
dinner--would you call that yellow or white? Whoever dressed her knew
what they were about. Mademoiselle, I imagine, one ought to call her. I
know that's French, and she's Italian, but still---- The new beauty!
that's what she will be called. I am so glad to be the first to see her;
but I must get you to tell me her name."

Among the gentlemen there was no other subject of conversation, and but
one opinion. A little hum of curiosity ran round the table. It was far
more exciting than tableaux, which was what some of the guests had
expected to be arranged by the Contessa. Tableaux! nothing could have
been equal to the effect of that dramatic entry and sudden revelation.
"As for Montjoie, all was up with him, but the Contessa knew what she
was about. She was not going to throw away her effects," they said.
"There could be no doubt for whose benefit it all was." The Contessa
graciously baffled with her charming smile all the questions that were
poured upon her. She received the compliments addressed to her with
gracious bows, but she gave no reply to any one. As she swept out of the
room after dinner she tapped Montjoie lightly on the arm with her fan.
"I will sing for you to-night," she said.

In the drawing-room the elements were a little heterogeneous without the
gentlemen. The two girls in blue gazed at this wonderful new competitor
with a curiosity which was almost alarm. They would have liked to make
acquaintance, to draw her into t