Meanwhile, the first fiddle and the "lap organ," reinforced by Uncle Cesar's stout bow arm, were playing energetically "I'se Gwine Back to Dixie," and Betty's slender feet danced rather than walked up the hall. At last they were standing before Mrs. Lindsay, stout, handsome, and florid, like the Major, and receiving her guests with heartfelt hospitality like her husband. The hostess greeted Betty warmly, and, above the music and merry chatter, screamed without any punctuations whatever: "How do you do Betty so glad to see you sorry your grandfather can't be here tell him to rub his knees with turpentine every night. Tom's brought four of his friends from the University and you must dance with them all so delighted to have Mr. Fortescue and the other officers from Rosehill go right into the library and get some hot biscuit and coffee you must be so cold after your drive how do you do," etc., etc., saying the same kind things to the next arrival. And then Tom Lindsay, a University of Virginia sophomore, swooped down on Betty; but just as he caught her hand, Fortescue, who knew both how to act and to think, put his arm around Betty's waist, and they whirled off to the strains of "I'se gwine back to Dixie, where the orange-blossoms blow." Betty, however, managed to put her hand for a second in Tom Lindsay's and to say, as everybody said to everybody else: "Oh, so glad to see you! Have just been dying of loneliness without you;" and when safely out of Tom's hearing Betty whispered into Fortescue's ear, "Such a nice boy! We used to play together. Of course, I have to say things like that to the child." By which it may be seen that Miss Betty Beverley was a most unprincipled person when it came to dealing with personable young men, and did not have the New England conscience or any other conscience, where flattering a person of the other sex was concerned.