“How smart! There is a ball on the fourteenth at the Hamptons’, and we are going to it in full force; it will be enormous fun. Now remember they will all be here at four sharp. The cart that took the pater’s luggage was to wait, also the brougham. Little he knew! Go and get into a smart tea-g. and prepare to receive--shocks.” And as she uttered the last word, Tito waltzed to the door, and exit singing. By five o’clock the expected guests were assembled in the little drawing-room, enjoying tea and sandwiches, drinks and cigarettes, discussing the weather, the latest news, and above all, bridge. Miss Tripp was a tall, talkative woman, with a high nose, a fine figure, and an air of easy assurance. Little Lady Boxhill, a good deal made up, looked about twenty in a certain light, and wore a chestnut wig, and a complexion. Mrs. Folly Fullerton, fair, sylph-like, languid, and insolent, dressed in flowery, diaphanous robes, with a gold cigarette-case dangling at her side. The Colonel, late of the Greens, a loud-voiced, well-groomed gentleman, who seemed to know every one, and be anxious that they should make themselves thoroughly at home. Joseline gazed at him as he stood with his back to the fire, precisely like the master of the house, and said to one of the cavalry men with an off-hand air-- “Oh, it’s all right, Pierrepont--smoking allowed. Try one of these Havanas?” She had taken Tito’s advice, and invested herself in a new tea-gown, and an armour of reserve. Nevertheless she felt frightened among the crowd of supercilious strangers, who appeared to look upon the house as a comfortable private hotel; indeed, she heard Lady Boxhill say to Mrs. Fullerton-- “What room have you this time, Bab? Not the corner one I hope?” “No, I’m on the big landing.” “That’s right.” “Yes. I told Lottie I simply would not come unless I had a suite.” “Oh!”--with a gesture of approval--“when one comes to a country house, the _least_ they can do is to make you comfortable. I’ve brought my masseuse, my secretary, and my dogs.” The company were still discussing racing odds, shares, divorce cases, Yarborough and little slams, and Joseline sat in the background, completely bewildered. All her newly acquired confidence and manners seemed oozing away amid surroundings of inquisitive eyes and languid patronage! Dudley, who on flying visits had been friendly, was now chilly and unsympathetic, and almost ignored her. Tito was engrossed in the company of a thin, clever-looking young man, and she was left to the mercies of strange women, who stared at her in a way that put her out of countenance, and asked such blunt questions. “And were you really in a cottage in Ireland only three months ago?” inquired Mrs. Fullerton, contemplating her with a look of languid insolence. “Yes, only three months ago”--and she sighed. “And is it _true_ that you actually sold fowls?” “Yes”--colouring--“and eggs as well.”