"Ay, that it is!" echoed Nancy Lynch, and straightway the whole bevy of girls and men fell to echoing the praises of the house, and voting it the finest in the province, next to the Governor's. On the outside Romney was but a settler's house, noteworthy only in size and fine proportion; within, it was an English mansion, for all the furnishings of Romney Hall in Devonshire had been brought over and placed as nearly as possible in their relative position in the new house. Chairs and tables of black carved oak stood about. On the south side of the great hall hung a tapestry worked by the maids of Mary of Scotland in her captivity; in the corner stood a great bronze vase, wrought by a famous Florentine of an earlier day. Over the mantel breast scowled a portrait of Sir William Romney, and opposite him his wife smiled down, as if she wished she were alive, and could take part in the festive scene in the hall, lighted by the many candelabra and sconces and the hissing, sparkling, high-flaming fire on the broad hearth. The portrait bore a striking resemblance to the hostess, who stood under it in her gown of silver brocade over yellow satin, receiving her guests with that graciousness which made each one believe himself the one most desired, where all were welcome. Each girl felt that now _she_ had come, the ball was sure to be a success; each man, that it was upon _him_ Mistress Huntoon counted as her chief aid. Just now she was listening with an air of absorbed interest to the talk of Sir William Berkeley, who dispensed his compliments upon just and unjust alike. True to the cavalier ideal, his theme was always "lovely woman." If the particular woman with whom he was talking was lovely she must like to be told so, if not, she must like it all the more. In the case of Elizabeth Huntoon the strain upon his conscience was less than usual, and if she smiled at his elaborate flatteries, it was only after his back was turned. "I trust, Madam," he was saying, "that I am to be favored with this white hand in the first measure--that is, if no other partner has been selected by the queen of the ball." "Where the Governor asks there can be no other," answered Elizabeth, sweeping her best courtesy; "but I am only queen dowager to-night, and Your Excellency must honor some of the rising beauties by asking of them in the dance." "Ay, after you," he said, tapping his gold snuff-box; "but when one is looking upon the sun, one has no mind to be put off with satellites." Then, breaking off and looking toward the staircase, he exclaimed, "In the name of Venus and Cupid, who is _that_?" Following his eyes Elizabeth saw naughty Peggy, who should have been ready an hour ago, coming slowly down the winding stair, her figure showing lithe and erect against the oak panelling, her head thrown back, her nostrils dilated with the elation of a race-horse coming in sight of the grand stand.