Just then Allen caught sight of Middleton, over the heads of the others. “Ah! here—Captain Middleton, I want to present you to my cousin, Miss Blair Cary, who wishes to know how you happened not to be—” He caught his cousin’s eye, and changed his speech “—who has a question to ask you. Captain Middleton—Miss Cary.” The others made way for Middleton, and he stepped forward and bowed low. She was all in white, and was blazing with brass buttons. They were her only ornaments, except a single old jewel consisting of a ruby surrounded by diamonds. She wore bracelets of the buttons on her arms, and a necklace of larger ones on a band around her white throat. A broad belt of them girdled her little waist. As Middleton bowed, he caught her eye and the same look of mingled defiance and amusement which he remembered so well at the ford. He hardly knew whether to laugh or be grave, and was conscious that he was growing red, as her look changed into one of triumph. He remained grave, however, and rallied enough to ask her for a dance. She bowed. They were all engaged. “I have the seventh—to sit out, I believe?” said Jacquelin Gray maliciously, from his seat, for Steve’s benefit. Miss Blair looked at her card;—then to Jacquelin: “You only _believe_? As you have forgotten so far as to have a doubt about it, the seventh is _not_ engaged,” said the young coquette, with a curtsey. She turned. “I will give it to you, Captain Middleton.” She looked at Jacquelin and with a little—only the least little toss of the head, took the arm of a young man who had just claimed his set, and bowing to Middleton moved off, leaving both Steve and Jacquelin looking a trifle blank. “That girl’s the most unaccountable creature that ever was on earth,” growled Jacquelin. “I’ll be hanged if I’ll be treated so!” He looked across the room after her floating form. “Go slow, old man, go slow,” said Steve. “You’ll be treated that way and come again for more. And you know you will.” Jacquelin growled. He knew in his heart it was true. Middleton thought that the seventh set would never come, but, like everything else in life, it came at last, and though there were three claimants for it, the one who was the final judge decided for Middleton and walked off with him, calmly leaving both the other aspirants fuming and scowling. “You can’t fight him Jack,” said Steve with a laugh to his cousin, who was muttering to himself, “because I’d first have to fight you, you know.” Having thus punished both her admirers, Miss Cary declined to dance—whether to keep her word; to avoid pleasing too much the young Federal Captain, or to soothe the ruffled spirits of his unsuccessful competitors, who may tell? For no one can thread the mazes of a girl’s caprice.