true aristocrats after all) she was _only the governess_. Dinner progressed in the weary protracted manner that the meal does when it is one of state and ceremony. The guests did not know each other well, and were dreadfully afraid (as is too often the case in good society) of being over civil or attentive to those whose position they had not exactly ascertained. It argues ill for one’s stock of politeness when one cannot afford to part with ever so small a portion, save in expectation of a return. So Lady Mount Helicon was patronising and affable, and looked at everything, including the company, through her eye-glass, but was very distant notwithstanding; and the gentlemen hemmed and hawed, and voted the weather detestable--aw! and the sport with the hounds--aw--very moderate--aw (it was d----d bad after the ladies went away); and their fair companions lisped and simpered, and ate very little, and drank as much champagne as appearances would allow; and everybody felt it an unspeakable relief when Blanche, drawing on her gloves, and blushing crimson at the responsibility, made “the move” to Lady Mount Helicon; and the muslins all sailed away, with their gloves and fans and pocket-handkerchiefs rescued from under the table by their red-faced cavaliers. When they met again over tea and coffee, things had thawed considerably. The most solemn high-breeding is not proof against an abundance of claret, and the General’s hospitality was worthy of his cellar. The men had found each other out to be “deuced good sort of fellows,” and had moreover discovered mutual tastes and mutual acquaintances, which much cemented their friendships. To be sure, there was at first a partial reaction consequent upon the difficulty of breaking through a formal circle of ladies; but this feat accomplished, and the gentlemen grouped about cup-in-hand in becoming attitudes, and disposed to look favourably on the world in general, even Sir Ascot Uppercrust laid aside his usual reserve, and asked Blanche whether she had seen anything of a round game called “turning the tables,” which the juvenile philosopher further confided to her he opined to be “infernal humbug.” In an instant every tongue was unloosed. Drop a subject like this amongst a well-dressed crowd and it is like a cracker--here and there it bounces, and fizzes, and explodes, amongst serious exclamations and hearty laughter. Lady Mount Helicon thought it wicked--Kate Carmine thought it “fun”--Miss Deeper voted it charming--Lacquers considered it “aw--deuced scientific--aw”--and the General in high glee exclaimed, “I vote we try.” No sooner said than done; a round mahogany table was deprived of its covering--a circle formed--hands joined with more energy than was absolutely indispensable--white arms laid in juxtaposition to dark coat sleeves--long ringlets bent over the polished mirror-like surface; and amidst laughing entreaties to be grave, and voluble