She wondered if she was too light-minded, too easily pleased. For every joyous thing seemed to come her way. The girls sought her out, the young men wanted to dance with her, and were willing to bore themselves going out to supper, if they knew she would be there. It was not because she was brighter or wittier than the others, or could think of more entertaining plays, but just that she seemed to radiate an atmosphere of happiness. She did not give up all her time to pleasure. She drove with her guardian on pleasant days; he had left off riding now, but he sent her out occasionally with Mr. Bartram, lest she should get out of practice, he said. Then she read to him, or they took up French. She made merry over her blunders. The autumn was long and warm. They sat in the garden in the sunshine, or walked up and down. Now and then he went to the office, when there were some important matters on hand. Madame Clerval gave a dance after she had her house set in order. It might have been called a ball. It was mostly for the young people; she was just as fond of them as ever, and secretly admitted that she didn't enjoy prosy old people, who could talk of nothing but their pains and aches, and how fast the country was going to ruin. "Do you think Mr. Bartram would consider it a nuisance to come for me?" she asked of her guardian, with a face like a peony. "Why, no, child. Madame made quite a point of his coming. He is growing old too fast." "Why, he isn't old," she said rather indignantly. "And you see--it's hard sometimes not to offend this one or that one, and if he is really coming, will you ask him to bring me home? Wouldn't _you_ prefer it?" "I think I would;" very gravely, though he wanted to smile. Wetherell and Arthur Pemberton were pushing each other for her favors, and she tried to distribute them impartially. The dance was a splendid success, and the dainty supper had a French air. Mr. Bartram came in just before that. Daffodil was engaged, of course. Madame provided him with a charming partner. There was only a galop afterward. At private affairs it was not considered good taste to stay after midnight. Mr. Bartram made his way to Daffodil, and asked her if she was ready to go, and she nodded gracefully. She looked so pretty as she came down the stairs, wrapped in something white and fleecy, smiling on this side and that. "It was very enjoyable," he said, "at least to you young people. I'm not much of a dancer nowadays, so I didn't come early." "It was just full of pleasure. Madame Clerval always plans admirably." He smiled to himself. Most girls would have protested about his being late, even if they had not specially cared. The young people took up the habit of calling in the evening, three or four of them, sometimes half a dozen. Mrs. Jarvis would send in some cake and nice home-made wine, which was quite a fashion then. They made merry, of course.