His lordship, however, did not please. And so, when Gaston and Linda Thorne returned, later on, from their walk, the first fact patent to both on entering the ball-room was Dinah’s absence. With a quick look around, Linda discerned Rosie Verschoyle standing at her mother’s side, partnerless. ‘Rosie Verschoyle a wall-flower? Oh, this is too bad! What can Lord Rex be thinking of?’ exclaimed Linda, ingenuously. ‘Mr. Arbuthnot, I insist upon your asking poor little Rosie to dance at once.’ ‘I thought you and I were to take pity on each other, Mrs. Thorne, for auld lang syne?’ ‘Think of Rosie, not me. It is positively wicked for old married women to monopolise the dancing men while girls stand out.’ ‘Are you sure Miss Verschoyle would care to have a man with deposited affections for her partner? a veteran whose waltz step dates from the reign of Louis Philippe?’ ‘Try her. In my young days girls would sooner dance with anybody than remain partnerless.’ ‘That “anybody” gives me confidence. It is good to know the exact compartment in which one is pigeon-holed.’ Gaston crossed the room. He made his bow before Rosie, who moved forward graciously. Now that Mr. Arbuthnot had asked her, said the girl, in her thin staccato, she would have the enjoyment of one really good waltz. Something in Gaston’s looks made her certain that he was a splendid dancer. Louis Philippe? Mr. Arbuthnot’s step dated from the days of Louis Philippe? ‘Why, that,’ cried Rosie, ‘was before we were all born!’ She confessed to never remembering about those ‘horrid French Revolution people,’ but had a notion Louis Philippe came next to the king who got his head cut off. Or was he Egalité, the man who insisted upon dying in his boots?’ ‘Louis Philippe came next to the king who got his head cut off,’ said Gaston, as his arm clasped her well-rounded waist. ‘I had no idea, Miss Verschoyle, that you were such a profound historian.’ Linda Thorne took the chair left vacant beside Rosie’s mother. ‘Your dear child is looking her best, Mrs. Verschoyle. I think our Guernsey roses do us national credit. We ought to produce an effect upon the foreign mind.’ ‘The young people are too much flushed, every one of them. A day like this may lay the seeds of lifelong malady. I know, as a fact, Mrs. Thorne, that Rosie is dancing in wet shoes.’ ‘Better dance than sit still in them,’ remarked Linda, cheerfully. ‘You never catch cold while you are amused.’ ‘Could we not have been amused at a quarter the cost? I have been trying in my own mind to reckon up the expenses of the expedition. Putting everything at the lowest, I bring it to something fabulous--fabulous! If these young subalterns, sons, no doubt, of needy men, had only given us a tea-drinking on L’Ancresse Common! When Colonel Verschoyle was in command----’ The time when her colonel commanded a regiment in Guernsey was Mrs. Verschoyle’s one unchequered recollection, the standard by which all subsequent mortal events must be judged!