By that time Betty had run upstairs, thrown off her cloak, taken one hasty but satisfactory view of herself in the mirror, and was stepping daintily down the staircase. Now, Betty, who was a scheming and designing creature, knew exactly how to descend the stairs into the dancing hall. This descent down the fine staircase in full view of the assembled company was an effective part of the programme, and the artful Betty, with an outspread fan in one hand and holding up her filmy white skirts with the other just enough to show her little white satin slippers, was the prettiest picture imaginable. So thought Lieutenant John Hope Fortescue of the United States Army, and several other admirers, both old and new. As Betty came down the stairs with what appeared to be unstudied grace, but was not, her soft eyes swept the dancers below, and she nodded and smiled back at those who recognized her. But she did not see Fortescue until she was almost at the last step, when he came forward and took her hand. He had been strikingly handsome in uniform, and he was scarcely less so in his well fitting evening clothes, although Betty, like all women, had a secret hankering for uniforms. "Good evening, Miss Beverley," said Fortescue, and Betty gave a pretty little start of real surprise. "Good evening," she said, and then hesitated. "And how did I get here?" said Fortescue, laughing and answering the look of surprised inquiry in Betty's eloquent face. "The greatest streak of luck that ever happened! When I got back to Rosehill, I found Major Lindsay had come to call--the kindest and most hospitable people that ever lived are in Virginia, I believe--and he invited us to come over to this party. We fairly jumped down his throat, I can tell you, we were so glad to accept." "And I am _so_ glad you did," said Betty affably. She had never laid eyes on Fortescue until four hours before, but Betty was Southern, and a Virginian at that, and readily assumed a tone of the warmest friendship with every personable young man she met, immediately after making his acquaintance. "And now," continued Betty in an imploring tone, as if there were not another man within a hundred miles, "will you be kind enough to take me up to Mrs. Lindsay to speak to her?" "Certainly," replied Fortescue, placing her little gloved hand within his arm, and improving his opportunities as he did so. It was not an easy matter for Betty to reach Mrs. Lindsay, standing at the other end of the hall. Betty was stopped every minute by girls speaking to her, and by young men asking dances of her. The girls called her "Betty" and the young men called her "Miss Betty," so Fortescue promptly dropped the formal "Miss Beverley" and called her "Miss Betty," as if he had known her for a hundred years.