Thence she passed into the company of Mrs. Combermere and Ellen Stiles. It seemd to her--but it was probably her fancy--that as she came to them they were discussing something that was not for her ears. It seemed to her that they swiftly changed the conversation and greeted her with quite an unusual warmth of affection. For the first time that evening a sudden little chill of foreboding, whence she knew not, seemed to touch her and shade, for an instant, her marvellous happiness. Mrs. Combermere was very sweet to her indeed, quite as though she had been, but now, recovering from an alarming illness. Her bass voice, strong thick hands and stiff wiry hair went so incongruously with her cloth of gold that Joan could not help smiling. "You look very happy, my dear," Mrs. Combermere said. "Of course I am," said Joan. "How can I help it, my first Ball?" Mrs. Combermere kicked her trailing garments with her foot, just like a dame in a pantomime. "Well, enjoy yourself as long as you can. You're looking very pretty. The prettiest girl in the room. I've just been saying so to Ellen--haven't I, Ellen?" Ellen Stiles was at that moment making herself agreeable to the Mayoress, who was sitting lonely and uncomfortable (weighed down with longing for sleep) on a little gilt chair. "I was just saying to Mrs. Branston," Miss Stiles said, turning round, "that the time one has to be careful with children after whooping-cough is when they seem practically well. Her little boy has just been ill with it, and she says he's recovered; but that's the time, as I tell her, when nine out of ten children die--just when you think you're safe." "Oh dear," said Mrs. Branston, turning towards them her full anxious eyes. "You _do_ alarm me, Miss Stiles! And I've been letting Tommy quite loose, as you may say, these last few days--with his appetite back and all, there seemed no danger." "Well, if you find him feverish when you get home tonight," said Ellen, "don't he surprised. All the excitement of the Jubilee too will be very bad for him." At that moment Canon Ronder came up. Joan looked and at once, at the sight of the round gleaming spectacles, the smiling mouth, the full cheeks puffed out as though he were blowing perpetual bubbles for his own amusement, felt her old instinct of repulsion. This man was her father's enemy, and so hers. All the town knew now that he was trying to ruin her father so that he might take his place, that he laughed at him and mocked him. So fierce did she feel that she could have scratched his cheeks. He was smiling at them all, and at once was engaged in a wordy duel with Mrs. Combermere and Miss Stiles. _They_ liked him; every one in the town liked him. She heard his praises sung by every one. Well, she would never sing them. She hated him. And now he was actually speaking to her. He had the impertinence to ask her for a dance. "I'm afraid I'm engaged for the next and for the one after that, Canon Ronder," she said.