A succession of introductions and beaux engaged Ida until supper. She forgot her purpose of speaking with Celestia, and would not have remembered her again that evening, had she not been made aware of her proximity at table by something between a grunt and exclamation, forced through a mouthful of cake. "Lor! if that ain't Idy Ross!" She had a saucer of ice-cream in one hand, and a slice of fruitcake in her left; so she stuck out a red elbow in lieu of either; which unique salutation Ida pretended not to see. "How are you, Celestia? When did you come into the neighbourhood?" "I jest got down yesterday. You see," in a stage whisper, "I heard of this party better'n a fortnight ago, and ma and I set our hearts 'pon my coming; so I had this dress made (it cost four dollars a yard!) and _happened_, you know, to pay a visit to Cousin Lucindy Martin's, jest in the nick of time, and Mrs. Truman, found out, you know, that I was there, and sent me a 'bid.' Didn't I manage it nice?" "You appear to be having a pleasant time." "O, splendid! I've danced every set. Thar's a heap of polite beaux--ain't there?" "Miss Ross, what shall I have the pleasure of helping you to?" asked Mr. Euston, Ida's escort. She named an article, and Celestia twitched her arm--"Who's that?" "Mr. Euston," said Ida, distinctly. "Is he your beau?" "No." "Then you'd as lief as not interduce me, hadn't you? He's the loveliest thing I ever saw." Ida flushed with disgust and vexation; the insufferable conceit of the girl, her bizarre appearance, and harsh tones drew the notice of many to them; and her horror of ridicule was strong upon her.