of every one at the ball. Though a viscount in his own right, he
gave himself not half the airs over us provincials as did many of his
messmates. Even Mr. Jacques, who was sour as last year's cider over the
doings of Parliament, lost his heart, and asked why we were not favoured
in America with more of his sort.

By a great mischance Lord Comyn had fallen into the tender clutches
of my Aunt Caroline. It seemed she had known his uncle, the Honourable
Arthur Comyn, in New York; and now she undertook to be responsible for
his Lordship's pleasure at Annapolis, that he might meet only those of
the first fashion. Seeing him talking to Patty, my aunt rose abruptly
from her loo and made toward us, all paint and powder and patches, her
chin in the air, which barely enabled her to look over Miss Swain's
head.

"My Lord," she cries, "I will show you our colonial reel, which is about
to begin, and I warrant you is gayer than any dance you have at home."

"Your very devoted, Mrs. Carvel," says his Lordship, with a bow, "but
Miss Swain has done me the honour."

"O Lud!" cries my aunt, sweeping the room, "I vow I cannot keep pace
with the misses nowadays. Is she here?"

"She was but a moment since, ma'am," replied Comyn, instantly, with
a mischievous look at me, while poor Patty stood blushing not a yard
distant.

There were many who overheard, and who used their fans and their napkins
to hide their laughter at the very just snub Mrs. Grafton had received.
And I wondered at the readiness with which he had read her character,
liking him all the better. But my aunt was not to be disabled by
this,--not she. After the dance she got hold of him, keeping him until
certain designing ladies with daughters took him away; their names
charity forbids me to mention. But in spite of them all he contrived to
get Patty for supper, when I took Betty Tayloe, and we were very merry
at table together. His Lordship proved more than able to take care of
himself, and contrived to send Philip about his business when he pulled
up a chair beside us. He drank a health to Miss Swain, and another to
Miss Tayloe, and was on the point of filling a third glass to the ladies
of Maryland, when he caught himself and brought his hand down on the
table.

"Gad's life!" cried he, "but I think she's from Maryland, too!"

"Who?" demanded the young ladies, in a breath.

But I knew.

"Who!" exclaimed Comyn. "Who but Miss Dorothy Manners! Isn't she from
Maryland?"