“You won’t understand all I’m saying yet, but you soon will. You come along in here and be kind to your old uncle, who’s never had anything right all his life—largely through his own fault, mind you. There, there! Bless me, you’re as soppy as a shower of rain. Fond of your uncle?” Jeremy hugged him. “That’s right. Well, mind you keep it up. I can do with some. Will you say you’re sorry to your father?” Jeremy nodded his head. “That’s right. . . . Now listen. This studio is for you to be in when you like. Not your beastly sisters, mind you; but you—_and_ your dog, if he’ll behave himself. . . .” Hamlet promised. Jeremy ceased to cry. He looked about him. When they had come in the room had been in dusk. Now it was too dark to see. He felt for his uncle’s hand and held it. Nothing so wonderful as this had yet happened in his life. He did not know, however, how wonderful in reality that evening would afterwards seem to him. All his after life he would look back to it, the dark room, the dog quiet at their feet, the cool strength of his uncle’s hand, the strange, heating excitement, the happiness and security after the week of wild loneliness and dismay. It was in that half-hour that his real life began; it was then that, like Alice in her looking-glass, he stepped over the brook and entered into his inheritance. CHAPTER III THE DANCE I A fortnight after Christmas a bomb, partly of apprehension, partly of delight, fell upon the Cole family—an invitation to a dance in the house of Mrs. Mulholland, of Cleek. The invitation arrived at breakfast, and the children would in all probability have known nothing at all about it had it not been in an envelope addressed to “Miss Cole.” Helen, therefore, opened it, and, never having received anything like it before, thought at first that it was a grown-up invitation to a grown-up tea party. ┌───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ Miss Cole │ │ Miss Mary Cole │ │ Master Jeremy Cole │ │ │ │ Mrs. James Mulholland │ │ At Home, January 10, 1895 │ │ The Manor House, │ │ Dancing, 6.30-10. Cleek. │ └───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ She was flattered by this, of course, but it was not until the word “_Dancing_” caught her eye that she realized the true significance of the invitation. “Dancing!” She adored it. At the High School she was recognized as the best dancer of all the younger girls. She was! She knew she was! She was adorable, fascinating, wonderful when she danced. She was! She knew she was!