“Dancing?” repeated Robert in a high key. “Anybody taken your first waltz, Miss Vincent?” Rosalie shook her head. “Mine, then. Is it?” “If you wish,” said the girl, and then took Mrs. Bruce’s mechanically offered hand. This lady had keyed herself to one master-effort, and she said now:— “You know, I always believed you could.” “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bruce!” Rosalie’s smile of gratitude, her low tone, and the sudden moisture that dimmed her eyes, should have touched the heart of her benefactress; but that organ could not hold another emotion. Mrs. Bruce slightly bowed and smiled, and moved slowly away. At Robert Nixon’s invitation to Rosalie, Helen bit her lip. “Rude,—incredibly rude cub!” she thought. “I’ll never forgive him for that!” The clinging of Rosalie to Mr. Derwent’s arm was another item in her disfavor; and Helen approached, her habitual self-control standing her in good stead, but all the rose-color of the opening of her evening turned to ashes of roses. “I had no idea you were so proficient, Miss Vincent,” she said calmly. “Why haven’t you gone into this long ago?” Rosalie met her cool regard admiringly. “Things have changed for us both wonderfully since we met in the Park,” she said. “You look very lovely to-night.” “Oh, really?” Helen gave a little laugh and quietly met Mr. Derwent’s eyes. “How kind!” “Me next,” said Robert. “We’ll have to beat it in a minute, ’cause there are a lot more coming; but I want to tell you you’re a wonder. My nose felt like your foot when it’s asleep, and a pearly tear coursed down my rounded cheek—” Here the speaker was pushed aside, and found it best to skip after Helen’s pink robe. “Brute says this floor’s all right when the minions get the rugs up,” he said, as he joined her. “They don’t have any cards here, but you’ll give me the—yes, the second dance, won’t you—and the—yes, I remember you dance like a fairy. You must give me a lot.” Robert ended in a rush of crimson embarrassment as Helen moved steadily onward toward the corner where Mrs. Nixon had taken a seat. “Thank you,” she returned. “It is fortunate for me that you dance as well as you do other things; because after all, I’m a stranger here, you know, and beggars mustn’t be choosers.” Mrs. Nixon received the pair with a smile. “Well, my dears,” she said, “we’ve all done our duty, haven’t we?” “_Pourvu seulement_ she doesn’t tell mamma,” thought Robert with a sinking of the heart. “Haven’t we?” he responded airily. “And look at my noble uncle—I’m not quite sure whether his name is Quixote or Casabianca; but I hope he’ll get off the rug soon, so it can be taken up.” “Yes,” responded Mrs. Nixon graciously. “I’m glad there’s to be dancing, for I may be a fond mamma, but I do think when you and dear Helen dance, that the poetry of motion is reached. Where has Mrs. Bruce disappeared to?”