no thank you, Rebecca. I have had a spray sent to me——”
“Never mind, Becky,” said I, “she is excited to-night.”
“An’ I’m easy forgotten.”
“So are we all, Becky—tant mieux.”
At Highclose Lettie made a stir. Among the little belles of the countryside, she was decidedly the most distinguished. She was brilliant, moving as if in a drama. Leslie was enraptured, ostentatious in his admiration, proud of being so well infatuated. They looked into each other’s eyes when they met, both triumphant, excited, blazing arch looks at one another. Lettie was enjoying her public demonstration immensely; it exhilarated her into quite a vivid love for him. He was magnificent in response. Meanwhile, the honoured lady of the house, pompous and ample, sat aside with my mother conferring her patronage on the latter amiable little woman, who smiled sardonically and watched Lettie. It was a splendid party; it was brilliant, it was dazzling.
I danced with several ladies, and honourably kissed each under the mistletoe—except that two of them kissed me first, it was all done in a most correct manner.
“You wolf,” said Miss Wookey archly. “I believe you are a wolf—a veritable rôdeur des femmes—and you look such a lamb too—such a dear.”
“Even my bleat reminds you of Mary’s pet.”
“But you are not my pet—at least—it is well that my Golaud doesn’t hear you——”
“If he is so very big——” said I.
“He is really; he’s beefy. I’ve engaged myself
