'What's the good, Mother? You _know_ I can't say a single thing.' Her voice dragged plaintively. 'It will be so good for you to try. Go to that nice-looking girl over there, making a petticoat. She is smiling at you.' She certainly appeared to be doing so. The fact did not lessen Miranda's embarrassment. She waited till her mother turned away, then turned her back without ceremony on the nice-looking girl who smiled, and made for her retreat in the corner. There she sat, yawning dejectedly, till Betty Crevequer came to her. Betty stood in front of her, regarding her with a whimsical scrutiny, her head at an angle of contemplation, her lips twitching a little. 'Isn't it fun here?' she remarked. 'I knew you'd like it. Can you make paper hats?' 'Oh, I suppose so. Beastly things. I hate them.' 'Oh! I was afraid you might, perhaps. I was going to ask you to show some one how; but never mind. We're going to dance now. You wouldn't care to join, I expect?' Miranda would not. 'I hate dancing. I say.' 'Yes?' 'Do you really like this? And how much more is there?' 'Of course; don't you? About a quarter of an hour more. Then there's coffee.' Beastly stuff. You'll hate it. I must go and dance.' 'There is certainly,' Mrs. Venables remarked, watching, 'something refreshingly picturesque in the movements of the Southern peoples. The lithe use of their limbs----' She took in this impression with satisfaction. 'Don't think any of them can dance a bit, if you ask me,' Miranda pronounced. The unwary remark drew her mother's attention upon her. Mrs. Venables' serious, fine eyes always seemed to weigh her daughter and to find her wanting. 'Dear Miranda, I wish you would try to take more interest in people. Miss Crevequer, now; she is entirely in their confidence, quite one of them, so to speak.' She turned to Betty. 'You must help this foolish child to a larger interest, and me to a deeper understanding. I have been having some most interesting conversations. I have been trying to glean from some of the girls their real attitude towards life in its deeper issues; but they are naturally reserved with foreigners--and, no doubt, with heretics. If one could convince them of one's very real sympathy----You are very close to them, one can see. You and I must have some long talks. And I suppose your brother has immense influence with the men and boys?' 'Well, they're just f-friends of ours,' Betty said, stammering a good deal, because she was tired.