"What shall I wear, Jeannie?" she asked carelessly, holding open the door of her wardrobe. "Oh, that lovely fawn-colored silk, please! the one with the black lace flounces! It is the prettiest color I ever saw; and I heard Mrs. Greyling tell another lady the night you wore it, when brother Lewis was here, you know, that it was one of the richest dresses in the room, modest as it looked, and that the flounce must have cost a penny!" "Probably more!" Sarah proceeded to array herself in the fortunate robe that had won the praises of the fashionably distinguished Mrs. Greyling. Her abundant dark hair was lighted by two coral sprigs, which formed the heads of her hair-pins, and, handkerchief and gloves in hand, she was taking a last survey of Jeannie's more brilliant costume, when there came a knock at the door. "Mr. Benson!" said Mary, unclosing it. "May I come in?" he asked. The tidy Mary had removed all trace of the recent tiring operations from the apartment, which was a compound of parlor and dressing-room, a necessary adjunct to the small chamber and smaller nursery, leading out of it, at the side and rear. "You may!" replied Sarah. "Here is an aspirant for ball-room honors, who awaits your approval." "Mademoiselle, que vous etes charmante! I am penetrated with profound admiration!" exclaimed the teasing brother-in-law, raising his hands in true melodramatic style. Jeannie laughed and blushed until her cheeks matched the grenadine. "Mrs. Hunt told me that you had changed your mind, and intended to grace the festive scene with your presence," continued Philip, addressing Sarah. "She and Lucy are there, and the dancing has begun. I came to escort you and our fair debutante here--that is, unless some one else has offered his services and been accepted." "That is not likely, since Mr. Hammond left us in your care. Do not your fourfold duties oppress you?" "Not in the least. If all my charges were as chary of their calls upon me as you are, my time would hang heavily upon my hands. No one would imagine, from your reluctance to be waited upon, that you had been spoiled at home. If Mr. Hammond were here now, he would tell you to draw that shawl"-- "It is an opera cloak!" interrupted Jeannie. "A ball-cloak to-night, then, is it not? I was saying that, although the night is not cool for sea air, you had better wrap that mantle about your chest and throat as we go out." Just outside the door a waiter passed them with a note in his hand. He stopped, on seeing Philip. "Mr. Benson! I was on my way to your rooms with this, sir." Philip stepped back within the parlor to read it by the light. It was a line from a friend who had just arrived at another hotel notifying him of this fact. It required no reply, and, leaving it upon the table, he rejoined his companions.