Lady Florence was also indefatigable, darting about, with a wonderful perception who everybody was, and with whom each would like to dance. She seized upon little Devereux Aylmer for her own partner before any one else had time to ask her, and carried him about the lawn, hunting up and pairing other shy people. ‘Why, Reginald, what are you about? You can manage a country-dance. Make haste; where is your partner?’ ‘I meant to dance with Miss Weston,’ said Reginald, piteously. ‘Miss Weston? Here she is.’ ‘That is only Marianne,’ said Reginald. ‘Oh! Miss Weston is dancing with William. Marianne, will you accept my apologies for this discourteous cousin of mine? I am perfectly horror-struck. There, Redgie, take her with a good grace; you will never have a better partner.’ Marianne was only too glad to have Reginald presented to her, ungracious as he was, but the poor little couple met with numerous disasters. They neither of them knew the way through a country-dance, and were almost run over every time they went down the middle; Reginald’s heels were very inconvenient to his neighbours; so much so, that once Claude thought it expedient to admonish him, that dancing was not merely an elegant name for football without a ball. Every now and then some of their friends gave them a hasty intimation that they were all wrong, but that they knew already but too well. At last, just when Marianne had turned scarlet with vexation, and Reginald was growing so desperate that he had thoughts of running a way, the dance came to an end, and Reginald, with very scanty politeness to his partner, rushed away to her sister, saying, in rather a reproachful tone, ‘Miss Weston, you promised to dance with me.’ ‘I have not forgotten my promise,’ said Alethea, smiling. At the same moment Claude hurried up, saying, ‘William, I want a partner for Miss Wilkins, of the Wold Farm. Miss Wilkins, let me introduce Captain Mohun.’ ‘You see I have made the Captain available,’ said Claude, presently after meeting Lord Rotherwood, as he speeded across the lawn. ‘Have you? I did not think him fair game,’ said the Marquis. ‘Where is your heroine, Claude? I have not seen her dancing.’ ‘What heroine? What do you mean?’ ‘Honest Phyl, of course. Did you think I meant Miss Weston?’ ‘With Eleanor, somewhere. Is the next dance a quadrille?’ Lord Rotherwood ran up the bank to the terraced walks, where the undancing part of the company sat or walked about. Soon he spied Phyllis standing by Eleanor, looking rather wearied. ‘Phyllis, can you dance a quadrille?’ Phyllis opened her eyes, and Eleanor desired her to answer. ‘Come, Phyllis, let me see what M. Le Roi has done for you.’ He led her away, wondering greatly, and thinking how very good-natured Cousin Rotherwood was.