"That is just it," said Miss Jean. "It has been perhaps a little disappointment--oh, not to Lilias and me, who are delighted to see everything, and never think of parties and things--but Margaret will vex herself about it, wanting the child to enjoy herself, and to see all that's worth seeing. You will understand the feeling. There is some great ball now," she added, with vague hopes for which she could not account to herself, "which everybody is speaking of----" "It is perhaps the Greek ball? Is she going?" cried Lewis, eagerly. "Ah, that will be what you call luck--great luck for me." "I cannot say that she is going--if you mean Margaret," said Miss Jean, trembling to feel success within reach. "It is not a thing, you know, that tempts the like of us at our age--but just for Lilias. Well, I cannot say. I hear people are asking for invitations, which, to my mind, is a wonderful way of going about it. I do not think Margaret, who is a proud person, would ever bring her mind to that." "She shall not need," said Lewis. "Would she go? Would you go? Dear Miss Jean, will not you do this for me? They are my dear friends, those people. They know me since I was a boy. They will call at once, and send the invitation. If I were not out of favour with your sister, I would come with my friends. But not a word! Do not say a word! It will all pass as if we had nothing to do with it, you and I. That is best; but in return you will see that Miss Lilias saves for me a dance, two dances perhaps." "Poor thing!" said Miss Jean, "my fear just is that she will have all her dances to spare; for we do not know many people, and the people we know are not going--and it is perhaps just a little unfortunate for Lilias." "That will not happen again," cried Lewis, with a glow of pleasure. "I am not of any good in Murkley, but I can be of some use here." In the mean time Lilias, very much disappointed, was demanding an explanation from her sister. "It was Mr. Murray, Margaret! I would have liked to speak to him. He was always nice. And you liked him well enough at Murkley. He was dressed all right, not like poor Philip. Why might not I stop and speak to him? I had to give him my left hand, for you pulled me away." "There was no need for giving him any hand at all. He is just a person we know nothing about--what his family is, if he belongs to anybody," Miss Margaret said. "But we know _him_," said Lilias, with that perfectly inconclusive argument which sounds so powerful to the foolish speaker, but which in reality means nothing. Margaret was full of irritation and annoyance, and a sense of danger to come.