Miss Lady lifted a pair of sparkling, excited eyes to his. From the moment when she had appeared, half timidly in her borrowed feathers and taken refuge under Mrs. Sequin's experienced wing, she had been the sensation of the evening. Adroitly conveyed from one group to another she had left enthusiasm in her wake. She was evidently enjoying to the utmost the novelty of receiving homage from one black-coated courtier after another, and of hearing delightful things about herself. The only apparent drawback to her pleasure was when she was compelled to say as she did now: “Thank you ever so much, but I'm not dancing.” “Not dancing?” repeated Mr. Horton, not unmindful of the whiteness of her shoulders against the dark marble of a neighboring pedestal,--'“Why not?” “The Doctor and I have given up dancing.” “Oh, so he doesn't allow you to dance?” “Allow me?” she lifted her level brows, smiling. “He simply doesn't care for it.” “And you don't care for it either?” “Oh, yes, I do, I care for it too much. That's why I'm not dancing.” “But you _are_ dancing. You've been dancing ever since you came in. I've watched you. Mightn't you just as well be dancing with me, as dancing by yourself?” She laughed and shook her head, but her foot continued to pat the time, and her eyes followed the swaying couples that swung past. “What's the Doctor's objection?” Mr. Horton urged. “He thinks it's undignified for married women to dance, and I guess I do, too, only--” Miss Lady sighed,--“you see, I keep forgetting that I _am_ a married woman!” “You certainly make other people want to forget it,” then his eyes dropped before the childlike candor of her gaze. “Come now, Mrs. Queerington, aren't you taking matrimony a little seriously?” “Perhaps I am, but I'm new, you know, and I've an awful lot to learn.” “Hasn't it ever occurred to you that the Doctor might have something to learn?” “No,” she said brightly, “he knows everything. I sometimes wish he didn't. I'd be proud if I could teach him even _that_ much!” and she measured off the amount on the tip of her little finger. “Perhaps he isn't as good a pupil as you are. You should take him to see 'Harnessing a Husband,' at the Ardmore this week.” “A play? I'd love to go to the theater just once.” “You've never been? How extraordinary! Come with Mrs. Horton and me on Friday night and let us share your first thrill.” “May I?” Miss Lady began eagerly, then checking herself, “I'm afraid the Doctor doesn't care much about the modern stage. He used to enjoy seeing the great actors, but he says the plays they put on now bore him fearfully. Mayn't we come to call sometime instead?” “As you like,” said Mr. Horton, shrugging, “but I hope you realize that you are spoiling that learned husband of yours. Instead of adapting yourself to him, make him adapt himself to you. Come now, isn't it about time for you to reform? Why not begin by finishing this dance with me?”