If it had been the men alone, I could have borne it. _Somehow_ one would have carried it off... I made my way, through this _sea_ of strange faces, to the door--and I really believe that, if I had found the Jacquerie in possession, I could hardly have been more astounded. _With_ the men there were girls, scores and scores of them, surging up to the door, lolling about on the stairs, smoking cigarettes in the hall, powdering their horrible little noses. One glance was enough... The dresses alone--skirts that hardly reached their _knees_, bodices that hardly reached their _waists_, "the shoe and shoulder-strap brigade", as my boy calls them. A reek of powder and cheap scent... "What," I said, "what have I done to deserve this?" You would think that my cross was sufficiently heavy, but I was evidently to be spared nothing. _Some of the men were not even sober_! As I came on to the landing, some one said--with great elegance--: "Here, old thing, you'd better go home and sleep it off." Don't let me claim more pity than I deserve! I _was_ spared a free fight. When the Arbiter of Taste had returned from escorting his friend downstairs, I said to him: "I must _beg_ for enlightenment. There has evidently been a mistake. I cannot remember having invited you; and I think you must have come to the wrong house." He looked a little surprised, but rallied at once and pulled from his pocket a _menu_ with the address written on it. "We were told that you were giving a dance and that we might come," he said. "I am addressing Lady Ann Spenworth, am I not?" "You are," I said, "but there's some hideous mistake. Dance? There's no dance. _Who_ told you?" "Lord Spenworth," he answered. "At the regimental dinner. He said that you were giving a party; some of us were a bit shy of coming without an invitation, but he assured us that we should be as welcome as he was. We'd all arranged to go on to Ledlow's; so, as soon as we'd found our partners, on we came. Is it the wrong night?" "Wrong night!," I said. "All nights are wrong nights! My brother-in-law must have made a mistake. I _am_ giving a little party and I invited him..." And then I whispered to this boy about the princess. I must say that he behaved _well_. It can never be pleasant to find yourself in a house where you're not expected and where, only too plainly, you're not wanted. He saw my terrible position... "I hope you realize it's not _our_ fault," he said. "I acquit you of _everything_," I cried. "But won't you explain to your friends and--and get them away?"