She was very much occupied on the day of the ball, still looking after these decorations, and even made a dash across the country in her own little brougham in the morning to get one particular kind of white chrysanthemum which only grew in a cottage garden in the middle of the island. She returned from this wild expedition about noon with the brougham filled with the flowers, and a great air of triumph and excitement. “Wasn’t it clever of me?” she cried. “I just remembered. We saw them, don’t you recollect, Kate? the last time we were out that way. They were just the things that were wanted for the head of the room. I flew to the stables and called Andrews, and we were there--oh, I can’t tell you how soon.” “Nice thing for my horse,” said Mr. Tredgold. “He’s a young devil, that Andrews boy. I shall give him the sack if he doesn’t mind.” “It is my horse,” said Stella; “the brougham’s mine, and the boy’s mine. You forget what you said, papa.” “There never was an extortioner like this little----” said Mr. Tredgold, chuckling; “drives her horse to death and then feeds him with sugar--just like women--it’s what they all do.” “I think,” said Katherine, “you might have found some chrysanthemums nearer home.” “But you see I didn’t,” said Stella, with her usual impatience, breaking into song and tossing her shining head as she walked away. “Doesn’t make much of the parting, and that fellow off to India, does she?” said her father. “I knew how it would be; I never believe in a girl’s swagger, bless you. She’s very fond of one man till she sees another. You’ll find my lord will make all the running to-night.” “And if Lord Uffington should propose for Stella,” said Katherine with her grave air, “which I don’t think very likely, but, still, from your point of view, papa, would you insist upon the same test with my lord--as you call him--pound for pound on the table as you say, and that sort of thing?” “Certainly I should--if he was a Royal Dook,” Mr. Tredgold said. “Then it is a pity,” said Katherine; but she said no more, nor would any question bring forth the end of her sentence. She went out and took a walk along the cliff, where there was that beautiful view. It was a very fine day, one of those matchless days of early winter which are perhaps the most beautiful of English weather. The sun was blazing, calling forth the dazzling whiteness of that sharp cliff which was the furthest point to the east, and lighting every wave as with the many coloured facets of a diamond. There were one or two boats out, lying in the light, or moving softly with the slight breeze, which was no more than a little movement in the celestial air--as if suspended between earth and heaven. And to think it was November, that grim month in which everything is dismal! I don’t think Katherine was thinking very much about the view, but she was soothed by it in the multitude of her thoughts.