"But Peggy is the queen of the ball," said Huntoon, with a satisfied nod. "See the saucy baggage smiling at her own reflection in the glass." "I fear she is vain." "No doubt, being pretty, and a woman." "She is neglecting Romney." "But is she not having a fine time! I vow it makes my slow, old blood dance to watch her." "But it is Romney's dance, and he enjoys it not." "And if the boy wants the moon, this being his birthnight, his mother must get it for him. See, Peggy is throwing a rose at Romney. It hit him squarely in the breast and she is smiling at him." "Stupid!" said Elizabeth. "Why does he not ask her for the galliard?" "He has; see how glum the others look. Call you that hospitality, to keep the best for himself?" "Oh, the others were best occupied in talking with the girls. But no, they must hang about looking at Peggy, as though the sun rose and set over her shoulder." Yet Elizabeth smiled. Meanwhile Peggy, having had her fill of admiration, turned gracious and bethought herself of the other damsels. She would fain have persuaded some of her superfluous partners to betake themselves across the hall to where Polly Claiborne was sitting in solitude against the settle; but such curious creatures are men, that they prefer to hover on the frigid rim of the outermost circle of success rather than to bask in the welcoming smiles of the neglected. One held Peggy's fan, another her kerchief, a third her roses, the ones Romney had gathered for her this afternoon, and now viewed with wrath, seeing them picked to pieces by the idle fingers of young Captain Richard Snow, who, having won a place in the inner line by her side, showed a determination not to abandon it before supper. "Never before did I know that the Huntoons were selfish!" he was murmuring. "That they could never be!" ejaculated Peggy, with anger in her voice. "Yet they have kept you to themselves for a whole year, you that should have shone like the sun over all Virginia." "Poor Virginia!" mocked Peggy; "she has indeed been sadly cheated." "You need not shine long to warm the province," said a second gallant, "since you have melted Snow in a single evening." "Ah," answered Peggy, "snow in this part of the world never stays long, but," with a side glance under her lashes, "it is lovely while it lasts;" then catching too a self-satisfied smile upon the Captain's face, she added pertly, "but somewhat soft." The Captain colored and glowered at his rival. "It is a misfortune," he said, stiffly, "to have a name that lends itself to jests." "Oh," said Peggy, feeling that she had taken a liberty and anxious to make amends, "I do admire your name much." "Really!" "Really and truly." "You have only to take it; I assure you it is quite at your service." At this a shout of laughter went up from the circle of men about. "What is the jest?" asked Romney, joining the group from which he had been vainly striving to abstract his eyes and interest.