How wonderful of her to know that, to ask about the one game that was near his heart. He told her eagerly about it, how he had played half-back twice for the school and had been kicked in the eye and hadn’t cared, and how next year he hoped to be the regular half-back because Trefusis, who had been half for three years, was going to Eton, and he was very young to be half; he’d only be eleven then—and if he stayed on until he was thirteen—— I’m afraid that he boasted a little. “Have you got any brothers and sisters?” she asked him. He told her all about Mary and Helen, and his mother and father and Aunt Amy and Uncle Samuel—especially about Uncle Samuel. And while he talked he stared and stared and stared, never taking his eyes from her face for a single moment. She was laughing all the time and suddenly she said: “Shall I tell you something, Jeremy?” He nodded his head. “This is the very happiest day of my life. I’m so happy that it’s all I can do not to sing.” “I’m very happy too,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d like dances till you came, but now they’re splendid.” The cruel music suddenly began, and there, standing in front of them, was a tall, dark man, very fine and straight. The lady rose. “This is Jeremy,” she said. “And this is Major——” Jeremy didn’t catch the name. He would wish to hate him for taking her away had he not looked so fine, just, in short, what Jeremy would like to look when he grew up. “I tell you what,” the lady said, turning round. “Jeremy, you shall take me down to supper. Yes, he shall, Michael. After all, it’s their evening, not ours. Four dances from this. That’s right. Number eleven. Got it? Good-bye.” She was gone, and Jeremy was staring around him as though in a dream. IV Four dances from now! What should he do meanwhile? To dance with anyone else would be desecration. Suddenly Tommy Winchester appeared. “I say,” he wheezed in his funny voice like a miniature organ-blower’s. “Have you been down to supper yet? I’ve been down four times. You should see the ices they’ve got.” Ices after the experience he’d been having! Nevertheless he was interested. “Where are they?” he asked. “Down there,” said Tommy, pointing to some stairs. “That’s the back stairs, and you can go down as often as you please and nobody sees.” At that moment there came round the corner the supercilious figure of the Dean’s Ernest. He was very elegant, more elegant—as Jeremy was forced to confess—than himself would ever be. “Hallo, you fellows,” said Ernest. He was twelve, and was going next year to Rugby. It was irritating the way that he was always a year ahead of Jeremy in everything. “I call it pretty rotten,” he said, smoothing his gloves. “The band’s not first class and the floor’s awful.” “Well, I think it’s splendid,” said Jeremy. “Oh, do you?” said Ernest scornfully. “_You_ would! Ever been to a dance before?”