Meredith replied cordially, and the party advanced towards the lawn. The two girls preceded Mr. Dugdale and Meredith, and as the sound of their voices reached the latter, he correctly divined that they were amusing themselves at the expense of Mr. Dort. On the approach of Miss Baldwin, the Honourable Matthew promptly abandoned the garden bench, from which no blandishments had previously availed to entice him, and repeated the phrases which had occasioned him so much trouble, with very suspicious glibness, to the undisguised amusement of the two girls. Mr. Dort was not in the least abashed. He had no sense of humour and not a particle of bashfulness, and, if he had reasoned on the subject at all, would have imputed their hilarity to the natural propensity of women to giggle, rather than have entertained any suspicion that he had made himself ridiculous. But he never reasoned, and he was always perfectly comfortable. The afternoon passed merrily away, and a pleasant dinner-party succeeded. George Ritherdon had become quite a popular person before the promised dance--not at all splendid, in comparison with the ball of the preceding evening--began, and he confided to Meredith his surprise at finding himself "getting on so well," he who was such a bad hand at "society business." Gertrude gave him several dances that evening--Miss Congreve thought rather too many,--and she gave Mr. Dort one, and a tolerably prolonged audience in the ante-room, after which it was generally observed that the expression of discontent habitual to his features was more marked than usual. He left the Deane long before the party broke up, and found his lady mother still up, and ready to receive his report of proceedings. "Well, Matt, how have you got on?" was her ladyship's terse question. "I haven't got on at all," replied the Honourable Matthew. "She said 'No' almost before I'd asked her, and was so infernally pleasant about it, that, hang it! I couldn't get up anything like the proper thing under the circumstances,--you know, mother,--the 'may not time--can you not give me a hope?' business." "Excessively provoking," said Lady Gelston, turning very red in the face, and speaking in a tone which was the peculiar aversion of her son: "she is a stupid perverse girl, and I'm certain you mismanaged the affair." "No, I didn't," said the Honourable Matt; "there ain't much management about it, that I can see. I said, 'Will you marry me?'--that's flat, I think,--and she said, 'Certainly not;' _that's_ flat, I think;--a perfect flounder, in my opinion." "Well, well, it can't be helped," said Lady Gelston, with a glance at her son which might have meant that she had arrived at a comprehension of what a fool he really was. "There, go away, and let me get to bed. It's too bad; but there's no help for it. We must only try elsewhere." she continued, as if speaking to herself.