"The young men are mostly good to me," replied Miss Sylla demurely. "But what made Lady Mary set her face so dead against this ball? You told me she was full of fun, and either assisted at or promoted all the gaiety in the neighbourhood." "Ah, I cannot understand that," rejoined Laura. "The excuse about Blanche requiring rest is all nonsense. Why, she told me to-day, she was never better, and, as you yourself heard, said she should like to go to this ball immensely." "Ah, well," said Sylla, with a shrug of her shoulders and a slight elevation of her expressive eyebrows, "I don't think I care much about your Lady Mary; your word-painting has been a little too flattering." "You mustn't condemn her just because she has got this whim in her head. We know her well, and like her very much. We have been brought up so much with her own children, you know. But you never told us you knew Mr. Cottrell." "Why should I?" rejoined Sylla. "I hadn't the slightest idea he was in these parts until I saw him. He is a dear clever old gentleman" (if Pansey could but have heard that!), "and one of my most devoted admirers. I met him at the Hogdens' last autumn. It amused me so much to see how he always got his own way about everything, that I struck up a desperate flirtation with him, and then, you see, I got mine. Oh, you needn't look shocked. It's great fun when they have arrived at years of discretion, like Mr. Cottrell; they always get you everything you want, and are no more in earnest than you are. Then they are always at hand to save you 'an infliction.' I always said I was engaged to Mr. Cottrell whenever I didn't want to dance with any one who claimed me, and if I made him a pretty speech, he would always forgive my throwing him over. My dear Laura," continued the young lady gravely, "an admirer of that sort is worth a good half-dozen younger ones. But tell me a little more about the Bloxams." "There is nothing much to tell," rejoined Laura. "The Squire is just what you saw him--a fresh, genial, and hospitable country gentleman. Blanche is a dear unaffected girl, a good horsewoman, and good at lawn tennis, billiards, and all that sort of thing. Jim Bloxam is what you see--as gay, light-hearted, and rattlepated a dragoon as any in the service; and as for Lady Mary, she is very much better than you give her credit for." "Whether the big house goes or not makes a difference in our staff of partners," observed the younger Miss Chipchase sententiously. "Let's see: there's Captain Bloxam, Captain Braybrooke, and Mr. Sartoris--all most eligible, don't you think so, Laura? I wonder what this other man is like whom Blanche talked about--Lionel Beauchamp? he comes to-night." "What, Lionel Beauchamp!" exclaimed Sylla: "do you mean to say Lionel Beauchamp is coming to the Grange?" "So Blanche told me this afternoon; why, do you know him?"