A grand piano was in the middle, and a lady was seated before it, whose nimble fingers were flying over the keys, producing the strains of a brilliantly provocative and inspiriting valse. The lady was not alone. In the centre of the room, whose polished floor was almost as bright and slippery as glass, stood two young girls, the arms of each around the waist of the other, their heads thrown back, their eyes beaming with laughter, and their hearts beating with the exertion of the wild dance they had just concluded. As Mr. Dugdale and Rose drew near the window, the pause for breath came to a conclusion, the music gushed forth, more than ever inviting, and the dancers were off again, spinning round and round in their girlish glee in a boisterous exaggeration of the figure of the dance, irresistibly merry and attractive. They flew down the length of the room, crossed to its extremity, and came whirling up to the central window. There stood Mr. Dugdale with uplifted threatening stick, and Rose, with her knitting dropped, fascinated with admiration. Then they checked their headlong career, and, with some difficulty, came to a stop opposite the pair on the terrace, laughingly shaking their heads in imitation of the pretended rebuke they were conveying. "A rational way to rehearse for your ball, Gerty," said Mr. Dugdale, as he stepped, with the assistance of the young girl's ready hand, into the room, followed by Rose. "And a capital plan for you, Nelly, who are so easily tired. You silly children, don't you think you will have enough dancing to-night?" "Not half enough," replied one of the girls, "not quarter; none of the people will stay after five or six at the latest." "I should hope not, indeed," said Mr. Dugdale. "And you are resolved to begin punctually at ten; you _are_ unconscionable." "And then you know, uncle James," said the girl whom he had called Gerty, "we cannot dance together to-night; we are grown up, you know, hopelessly grown up; it's awful, isn't it? and besides--besides aunt Lucy tempted us with her beautiful playing--and the floor is so delightful; and now don't you really, really think it will be a delightful ball?" "I have not the smallest misgiving about it, Gerty, though I don't know much of balls. But I am sure Mrs. Carteret will join me in urging you not to tire yourselves any more just now." Mrs. Carteret left the piano, and joined the girls, who immediately entered on a discussion of the measures already taken for the beautification of the ball-room, and the possibility of still farther adorning it, which was finally pronounced hopeless, everything being already quite perfect, and the party adjourned to luncheon.