"I owed you none," replied Lucinda; "for, like Malvolio, you have had greatness thrust upon you. You know you are only Colonel Kingswood's substitute." "Well," resumed Fitzsimmons, "have I not done my best to make 'the substitute shine brightly as the king?'" "Recollect that the king is now by," said Colonel Kingswood. "But, Miss Mandeville, you must go through your part. Consider that to-night is the only opportunity the gentlemen may ever have of hearing how adroitly the ladies can flatter them." "It is not in the bond," replied Lucinda. "What is not?" "That the ladies should flatter the gentlemen." "Excuse me," said Colonel Kingswood; "the ladies having voluntarily taken the responsibility, the gentlemen must insist on their going regularly through the whole ball with all its accompaniments, including compliments, flattery, and flirtation, and a seasoning of genuine courtship, of which last article there is always more or less at every large party. And as it appears that Miss Mandeville has not faithfully done her part during the dance, she must make amends by doing it now." "On the latter subject," said Fitzsimmons, "Miss Mandeville can need no prompting. Her own experience must have made her familiar with courtship in all its varieties." "Of course,"--resumed the Colonel.--"So, Miss Mandeville, you can be at no loss in what manner to begin." "And am I to stand here and be courted?" said Fitzsimmons. "Now do not be frightened," observed the Colonel, "and do not look round as if you were meditating an escape. I will stand by and see how you acquit yourself in this new and delightful situation. Come, Miss Mandeville, begin." "What sort of courtship will you have?" said Lucinda, who could not avoid laughing. "The sentimental, the prudential, or the downright?" "The downright, by all means," cried the Colonel. "No, no," said Fitzsimmons; "let me hear the others first. The downright would be too overwhelming without a previous preparation." Lucinda affected to hide her face with a feather that had fallen from her head during the dance, and which she still held in her hand, and she uttered hesitatingly and with downcast eyes-- "If I could hope to be pardoned for my temerity in thus presuming to address one whose manifest perfections so preponderate in the scale, when weighed against my own demerits--" "Oh! stop, stop!" exclaimed Fitzsimmons; "this will never do!" "Why, it is just the way a poor young fellow courted me last summer," replied Lucinda. "Come, let me go on. Conscious as I am that I might as well 'love a bright and particular star, and think to wed it--'" "You will never succeed in that strain," said Fitzsimmons, laughing. "You must try another."