"Do you know me?" asked Joan in surprise. "Everybody knows you," said the girl. Joan flushed rosily. It was a compliment after her own heart. "I say, what's _your_ name?" she asked. "Sylvia Tarrant." Joan nodded. "I know now," she said. "You live near Gainford." The Tarrants were new-comers. Sylvia's father was a retired sailor and a widower, and had but lately settled in the district, which would account for his daughter's want of acquaintance. "Yes," said Sylvia. "But really, I could not take your partners. They'd be furious at getting me instead of you." Miss Gaymer turned and scrutinised the face and figure beside her. "All you want, my child," she said, "is a _start_. After to-night you'll never be left alone for two seconds at any ball you care to go to. In fact, I don't see how I shall ever be able to get any partners at all," she added plaintively. At this idea the girl laughed and looked happier, which was just exactly what Joan meant her to do. Her spirit was returning. Joan rose briskly. "Now, Sylvia," she said, "I'm going to leave you for two minutes, because I want to find a man to send round and tell all my partners that you've agreed to take them on. Then I'll come back and get you started. Just put yourself straight. There's a loose end of hair here: I'll roll it up. There! Your eyes are getting better every minute. Give your skirt a shake out, and have a look at yourself in that mirror, and you'll be simply perfect. So long!" "There's somebody coming," said Sylvia, turning from her toilet and looking over her shoulder. A masculine form filled the passage. It was Hughie, who, deprived of a partner through Joan's absence,--the result of standing on his dignity in the matter of number eight,--was prowling about in search of a quiet spot where he might indulge in the luxury of a pipe. Joan, who had forgotten all about number eight, received him with unfeigned pleasure, and hurried him back whence he came. On the way she breathlessly explained the situation to him. "Hughie, that poor child has come here not knowing a soul, and has stood against the wall for three hours. There isn't a partner to be had for love or money at this hour, so she must just have mine. Take my programme--wait a minute, I'll fill in some of these initials--and go round to all the men whose names are on it, and tell them I'm very sorry but I've got a headache and can't dance any more to-night, but they're to come to me at once at my pillar and be introduced to a substitute I've provided for them." "Do you think they'll exactly--_jump_ at the idea of a substitute?" suggested Hughie mildly. "Their business," said Miss Gaymer with a sudden return to her usual manner, "is to do what I tell them! Run, Hughie. Don't say a word about the poor kid not having been able to get partners, will you? Say she came late--anything! You understand?" Hughie nodded.