“We are all on the _qui vive_ for the bachelors’ ball; heaps of people are coming to it,” said Miss Valpy. “Bachelors, _I hope_?” put in Mr. Brande, briskly. “Yes; it is to be on the eighth.” “I hope that our dresses have arrived,” said Honor, anxiously. “I think I can relieve your mind,” rejoined Mrs. Sladen; “there is a large new deal box in the back verandah that looks _very_ like dresses. But poor Mrs. Curtice! The cart that was bringing up her boxes went over the broken bridge into the river-bed, and all her new frocks are in a state of pulp!” “Who is Mrs. Curtice?” inquired Honor. “A new-comer?” “Yes; an elderly youngerly bunchy person,” responded Miss Valpy. “She reminds me exactly of an old Java sparrow! She would look the same, no matter what she wore.” Mr. Brande, the only gentleman present, put up his eye-glass and gazed at the young lady meditatively. “Any more news?” continued his insatiable wife. “They say that Captain Waring is engaged to Miss Potter, up at Simla. Does that cause you a pang, Honor?” “Yes, a pang for Miss Potter,” she retorted. “I can’t endure Captain Waring.” “Oh, why not? Most people are long-suffering with respect to him!” “I hate a man who, when he talks to me, every now and then chucks me metaphorically under the chin.” Mr. Brande now gravely focussed his eye-glass upon his niece. “I see what you mean, dear. I’m sure, from what I know of you, he never took a second liberty with you. Sir Gloster has come back.” Here Mrs. Brande showed signs of increased attention. “He has got snow-blindness. He went to the glacier.” “Why, it seems only the other day that he went away,” observed Mrs. Brande. “Yes, just after the starvation picnic,” supplemented Honor. “Everything will be dated from that now!” exclaimed her aunt, irritably. “And is he laid up in Shirani?” “Yes; Mrs. Langrishe has taken him in to nurse.” “Mrs. Langrishe! She never did such a thing before in all her life,” cried Mrs. Brande, “and besides, she has no room.” “Oh, she has contrived it; she has given him Major Langrishe’s dressing-room, and sent him to the club.” “Well, I never!” gasped her listener. “You see,” continued Mrs. Paul, laughing at her hostess’s face, “the force of your good example.” “Force of example! I call it the force of being a baronet. And have you seen anything of Mark Jervis?” “Yes; he and some of the Scorpions. Captain Scrope and Mr. Rawson are laying out a paper-chase course. I am sure he will be here presently,” added Mrs. Sladen. “He is on this ball committee, and extremely energetic. Here he is,” as Jervis and two officers cantered up to the verandah somewhat splashed. “Welcome back,” he said, dismounting. “No, no, thanks; I will not come in, at any rate further than the mat. We have been through bogs and rivers, and are in a filthy state.” “Never mind; it’s only the verandah! Do come in,” said Mrs. Brande, recklessly.