“But you will be glad of a rest,” said Lady Frances, touching the pianiste on the hand and stopping her in a yawn. “When I was at school at Cheltenham I used to be rather good at dance music.” She turned suddenly and looked down at Louisa. “Perhaps you play?” “Me?” echoed Louisa confusedly. Louisa’s sister Alice lifted her eyes in silent appeal to the fates. “I draw the line at a mouth organ.” Her sister frowned at the ceiling. “And even that I’m out of practice with.” Louisa found her handkerchief in a back pocket, and with some idea of hiding her confusion, rubbed her little nose vigorously. “I think you have dropped this,” said Lady Frances, stooping. “Oh, that’s only a bit out of this evening’s newspaper. About my brother,” added the girl. “Really! May I read it, I wonder.” “Spell the words you can’t pronounce,” said Louisa. The room waited. Erb shifted his feet and endeavoured to look unconcerned. “Are you— Are you Miss Spanswick, then?” pleasantly and encouragingly. “Am I Miss Spanswick?” echoed Louisa with despair in her voice. “Give it ’old! _This_ is my brother’s name—Herbert Barnes—and, consequently, my name is Barnes. Not Spanswick.” “I see! tell me what can I play?” “Play something you know,” advised Louisa. “Rackham! please suggest something.” “If it wasn’t troubling your ladyship,” said Mr. Rackham, taking off the dictionary, “and putting you to a great amount of ill-convenience, I should venture to suggest—hem!—a set of quadrilles.” Something in the playing, once the couples had persuaded themselves to make up sets and to dance to such an august musician, that had escaped the art of the hired pianiste. An emphasis at the right place; a marvellous ability for bringing the music of each figure to an end just as the dancing ceased, so that there was no longer necessity for clapping of hands to intimate that further melody was useless, or to go on dancing with no music at all. For the next, Lady Frances played a well-marked air for a new dance that had possessed town, and in this Miss Luker gave up her partner and undertook to teach Erb, who was not fully informed on the subject. It occurred to Erb, as he tried to lift his foot at the appointed moment, and prepared immediately afterwards to swing the agreeable upper housemaid round by the waist, that although his partner had modelled her style on that of the young woman seated at the pianoforte, there existed between them a long interval. Both had the same interested way of speaking, the same attention in listening, but, with Miss Luker, there seemed to be nothing at the back of the eyes. Erb, finding himself possessed with a hope that Lady Frances might presently speak to him, tried to compensate for this weakness by telling Miss Luker, when they were lifting one foot and swinging round at the far end of the kitchen, that the title meant nothing to him, and that, for his part, he preferred to mix with everybody on a common platform, to