“Well, I think a fellow deserves some reward,” remarked Mr. Beresford, “when he has the courage to drive up in a hansom bearing a green harp with yellow strings in his arms. It shows that his passion has quite eclipsed his sense of humour. By the way, I am not sure but I should choose Rose, after all; there's something very attractive about Rose.” “It is the fact that she is promised to another,” laughed Francesca somewhat pertly. “She would make an admirable wife,” Mrs. Beresford interjected--absent-mindedly; “and so of course Terence will not choose her, and similarly neither would you, if you had the chance.” At this Mrs. Beresford's son glances up at me with twinkling eyes, and I can hardly forbear smiling, so unconscious is she that his choice is already made. However, he replies: “Who ever loved a woman for her solid virtues, mother? Who ever fell a victim to punctuality, patience, or frugality? It is other and different qualities which colour the personality and ensnare the heart; though the stodgy and reliable traits hold it, I dare say, when once captured. Don't you know Berkeley says, 'D--n it, madam, who falls in love with attributes?'” Meantime Violet and Celandine have come out on the balcony, and seeing the tinkling musicians there, have straightway banished them to another part of the house. “A good thing, too!” murmured Bertie Godolphin, “making a beastly row in that 'nailing' little corner, collecting a crowd sooner or later, don't you know, and putting a dead stop to the jolly little flirtations.” The Honourable Arthur glanced critically at Celandine. “I should make up to her,” he said thoughtfully. “She's the best groomed one of the whole stud, though why you call her Celandine I can't think.” “It's a flower, and her dress is yellow, can't you see, man? You've got no sense of colour,” said the candid Bertie. “I believe you'd just as soon be a green parrot with a red head as not.” And now the guests began to arrive; so many of them and so near together that we hardly had time to label them as they said good evening, and told dear Lady Brighthelmston how pretty the decorations were, and how prevalent the influenza had been, and how very sultry the weather, and how clever it was of her to give her party in a vacant house, and what a delightful marriage Rose was making, and how well dear Patricia looked. The sound of the music drifted into the usually quiet street, and by half-past eleven the ball was in full splendour. Lady Brighthelmston stood alone now, greeting all the late arrivals; and we could catch a glimpse now and then of Violet dancing with a beautiful being in a white uniform, and of Rose followed about by her accepted lover, both of them content with their lot, but with feet quite on the solid earth.