"You see, it will be a small party, nurse; and, at all events, I would rather look too little, than too much, dressed; besides, it is of no consequence; yet, that is not quite true," she added, with a frank smile, "I should not like to look frightful." So she had her own way, and wore the style of dress she preferred. Nurse produced a very handsome bouquet, just at the critical moment when the toilette was "_un fait accompli_," and Kate was thinking how unfinished her costume looked without what had hitherto been, with her, an invariable accompaniment. "Oh, nurse, how lovely! and you have got these for me! Ah, you spoil your child! but I am so glad to have them! Now I am indeed _mise a ravir_; and shall value them a thousand times more as your gift, than if they were from--" "The Captin?" put in Mrs. O'Toole, slily. "Yes, far more," said Kate, and she spoke the truth, for the moment. Some slight delay in procuring a cab, rendered their appearance at Mrs. Storey's later than they had intended, and her rooms were more than half full when they entered. There was the usual group of gentlemen near the door, conversing in under tones with each other; there was the same spare sprinkling of broad cloth, amongst the silks, satins, and muslins, seated stiffly round the walls, or rigidly enthroned on ottomans; the same half dozen of bolder spirits, more at home with the company than those about the door, amongst whom the _facetious man_, (for there is always such at third rate parties), shone conspicuous, entreating the ladies to teach him the language of flowers, or propounding far-fetched conundrums, ending, invariably, with, "do you give it up?" Tea and coffee was being handed round by two most respectable-looking men, whose faces seemed strangely familiar to Kate, until she remembered that she saw them almost daily, at the gate of Kensington Gardens, mounting guard over the Bath chairs, which they had there for hire; and young ladies were gently nibbling small squares of cake, and then depositing them in their saucers, as if ashamed of being guilty of so sublunary an occupation; in short, there was every thing that could possibly be expected at a _soirée_ of the class we are describing. The appearance of Colonel Vernon, with his elegant-looking granddaughter, drew general attention; and a whisper of curiosity ran round the room, as each one felt, instinctively, there was something in the newly arrived guests, different from themselves. Miss Vernon advanced through the numerous company, to her total strangers, with the quiet self-possession which so peculiarly distinguished her, and which had struck Egerton so forcibly, at the memorable ball, where they had first met. It was so different from the assured manner of a veteran society hunter, or the "look at me," air of a professed beauty, and seemed to say, "there is no position so lofty, where I should be out of place."