Lord Montreville had so far tamed her, that she did not think of setting out to trudge alone beyond the precincts of the shrubbery: she had learned not to pat every dog she met, or to kiss a donkey’s nose; and she was as steady from a gosling or duckling as a good fox-hound from a hare. When she wanted any thing at the other end of the room, she did not run, neither did she ever jump over the footstool, and she carried a candle perpendicularly, instead of horizontally. Lord Montreville thought it was time to ascertain a little what her manners would be in society, before he ventured to ask any of his own set to his house; and they sent forth a regular invitation to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Delafield, Major and Mrs. Smith, and Mrs. Smith’s sister, Miss Brown. Lucy was a little appalled at the prospect of making the signal after dinner. Every woman must have felt that the first time of making this little mysterious bow is an epoch in her life. Lucy was sure she should stay too long or too short a time. Then, to which of the ladies was the sign to be made? Lord Montreville told her that when the conversation took the turn of horses, hunting, dogs, or partridges, which it invariably did somewhere between twenty minutes and half an hour after the servants had left the apartment, all women with any tact or discretion took advantage of the first pause to depart; and that the lady whom he should hand in to dinner would almost invariably prove the one towards whom she should direct her eyes. The dinner went off very well. Lucy’s manners were perfect. She never was awkward, and her thoughts were sufficiently occupied with the idea of making the dreaded signal at the right moment to render her rather shy, and to prevent her spirits running away with her. She watched narrowly every thing that was said after dinner; and upon Major Smith asking her if she was fond of riding, she cast a glance towards Lord Montreville, to see if that was near enough the mark for her to rise; but, upon the whole, she thought not, as the question was addressed to herself. This occurred precisely eighteen minutes after the last servant had changed the last plate on which there had been ice; and sure enough it led the way to the usual turn of gentlemen’s conversation before twenty-two minutes had expired. Lucy had answered, “Yes, but Lord Montreville had not yet found a horse he thought fit for her.” Mr. Johnson remarked, that “Nothing was so difficult to procure as a good lady’s horse.” “Except a good hunter for a heavy weight,” said Mr. Delafield. “I can scarcely agree with you, Delafield,” rejoined Mr. Johnson; “for a lady’s horse should be so very safe, and all horses will stumble sometimes, and temper and mouth are so indispensable, besides action and ease.”