He saw Gertie, but thought she was there to render some service to his wife and paid no attention to her. The moment he was gone Gertie turned down the gas, and ensconcing herself in the large easy-chair waited the coming of the guests. And while she waited Godfrey looked in, and seeing the little figure in the chair, walked up to it and said: “Who’s there? Gertie, as I live! What are you doing?” “Mrs. Schuyler said I might sit here and see the ladies pass in their gay dresses, so I’m making believe I’m one of them, and at the party, too. Oh if it was only real, and I could dance the Lancers!” “Gertie, I say, how are you dressed?” Godfrey asked, turning up the gas and inspecting the child. “No, that won’t do,—not the ‘wedding garments,’ you know. Gertie, I tell you what, we are to have the church sociable next week, and that is a heap nicer than a party. Come, then, and I’ll dance your shoes off with you. There’s a ring,—I must go. When you get tired of making believe here, go round to the north staircase, and you can look down into the hall and dining-room. Good-by.” He was gone just as the first arrivals came up the stairs and into the room opposite where Gertie sat. And Gertie watched them eagerly and heard all they said, and mentally commented upon their attire, and compared them with Edith; and then, when they were all gone, crept cautiously round to the north staircase where Godfrey had said she could see the dancing. The party was a great success, with no drawback whatever, except the fact that Tom Barton from the Ridge drank too much champagne and became noisy and uproarious, and when by chance he stumbled upon Gertie, who was making her way to the kitchen through a side passage, he told her: “Ze was ze pressiest girl there, by gorrie,” and emphasized his compliment with a kiss. For this audacity Godfrey, who happened to be in sight, seized him by the collar and thrust him headlong out of doors, bidding him stay there till he could behave. Edith was pronounced perfectly charming by every one, and no young girl received as much flattery and attention as the beautiful mistress of the festivities, who bore herself like a princess, and received the commendations of those about her with a sweet graciousness of manner which won every heart. She was not fond of dancing and only went on the floor twice, once with Godfrey and once with Robert Macpherson, who was quite a lion with the girls, especially as he was new and a foreigner. “The Macphersons are very rich, and there’s a title in the family; he only paints and sketches because he likes it; he is not obliged to do it,” Julia explained to Rosamond Barton, who was questioning his antecedents and pronouncing him “splendid and _distingué_, with a face like a poet.”