Major Winchester almost never danced, Trixie had taken care to tell her, "except with one of us, or some very great friend. He says he is too old and grave. But, indeed, he scarcely ever speaks to girls at all; of course every one sees _you_ are quite an exception, Imogen." The evening was pronounced on all hands to have gone off excellently. "You have really enjoyed it thoroughly, my darling, have you not?" said Mrs Wentworth, fondly, when she looked in to Imogen's room to bid her good-night--or good-morning, rather, for midnight was well past. "Yes, mamsey, very much indeed," was the reply, "only I'm dreadfully sleepy. I think I enjoyed the first part the most, before I got at all tired, you know, and Mr Winchester just suits me for dancing." "_Mr_ Winchester?" her mother repeated, inquiringly. "Yes; didn't you see? A tall man, though not as tall as his brother, but just a _little_ like him, only much younger. He came over with the Penmores--I think that's the name. He's staying there for shooting. Didn't you know? He's so nice looking." Mrs Wentworth looked slightly discomfited. "Oh yes," she said, "I think I did see you dancing with a young man whom I did not know--a mere boy." "No," Imogen replied, rather hotly, "he's not a mere boy; he's twenty-four or twenty-five; and he's _very_ nice." "But it was Major Winchester you were dancing with at the end?" "Yes, he's rather too tall for me, and he _is_ very old, mamsey," and Imogen glanced up with a curious, somewhat perplexed expression. "Old!" repeated Mrs Wentworth with a little laugh. "What ridiculous ideas girls have! I was just thinking you and he looked so--no, I mustn't say what I thought when I saw you dancing together." "Mother!" exclaimed Imogen, and her cheeks grew scarlet. "And what was that I heard him whispering as he said good-night just now?" Mrs Wentworth went on. "Something about `forgive' or `forgiven?'" "Oh, nothing," said the girl, "only that he hadn't come for the first dance he had asked me for. He danced it with Florence." "Poor Florence!" said Imogen's mother, patronisingly. "She does not get too much attention. You should try to be kind to her, dear." "I!" Imogen exclaimed. "Nonsense, mamsey: She would not care for that sort of thing at all. I am only too flattered when she notices _me_. I don't take to her much, but of course I admire her. Indeed, I'm rather frightened of her. _Me_ be kind to Florence! Oh, mamsey, Florence could have any amount of attention if she cared for it." "My dear little modest darling," said Mrs Wentworth. "Well, some day my pet will have to learn to take more upon her, I daresay. In the meantime no one loves her the less for her humility." "It isn't humility; it's common-sense," said the girl. "But, oh, I'm so sleepy!"