"Well, for one thing I have only danced twice since I went down from Cambridge. One time was at a Viceregal reception in Calcutta, and the other was in Montmartre--under less formal conditions. I'll tell you what--you and your house-party go to the ball and enjoy yourselves, and your husband and I will keep each other company here--eh?" Captain Leroy put down his paper and said, "Good scheme!" in the loyal but mournful tones of one who realizes that it is a forlorn hope, but that one might as well have a shot for it. "In fact, dear," he continued desperately, "I was thinkin' of takin' Marrable out that very night to lie out for poachers. Old Gannet was tellin' me that the North Wood--that is--" He observed his wife's withering eye, and became suddenly interested in the advertisements on the back page of his periodical. "Jack," said Mrs. Leroy in a tone of finality, "on Tuesday night you put on your best bib and tucker and come with us--that's flat." "All right, m' dear," replied her husband in a voice which said to Hughie, "I was afraid it wouldn't work, old man!" "And why don't _you_ want to come, Hughie?" continued Mrs. Leroy, suddenly turning on her guest. "Well, I am not cut out for balls," said Hughie. "Prefer the open air, somehow." "If open air is all you want," remarked Mrs. Leroy grimly, "the Town Hall at Midfield is the draughtiest building in the county." "Balls are dull affairs," urged the faithful but misguided Leroy, "compared with the excitement and--er--suspense--" "If you want excitement and suspense," replied the inexorable Mrs. Leroy, "dance the Lancers with Lady Fludyer--fifteen stone of imperfectly balanced _blanc-mange_!" "And just a spice of risk--" "Risk? My dear boy, try the Ball Committee's champagne!" Captain Leroy, defeated at all points, once more subsided; but D'Arcy took up the argument. "Joking apart, Mrs. Leroy," he said, "it's an awful thing to be a supernumerary man at a dance in the country. You crawl in at the tail of your party, and shake hands with the governess, under the impression that she is your hostess. You are introduced to a girl, and book a dance. You don't catch her name, so you write down 'Red hair and bird of paradise' on your programme, and leave her. Of course you know nobody; so, after booking a few more wallflowers, you still find a good deal of time at your disposal. You can always tell a male wallflower. Women can usually brazen it out: they put on an air which implies that they have refused countless offers, and are sitting on a hard bench because they like it." "They can't deceive the other women, though," said Mrs. Leroy. "Still," agreed Hughie, "they impose on men all right. But, as D'Arcy says, a male wallflower is hopeless. He looks miserable, and either mopes in a corner like a new boy at school, or else reads away at his programme and peers about for a partner who isn't on it." "Why not try the smoking-room?"