“Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia, is here. She doesn’t know many of the men, and she doesn’t dance. Now, if I introduce you, won’t you try to make her have a good time?” “Certainly,” said Peter, gloomily. “And don’t go and desert her, just because another man comes up. It makes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle is very sensitive. I know you don’t want to hurt her feelings.” All this had been said as they crossed the room. Then: “Miss Biddle, let me introduce Mr. Stirling.” Peter sat down to his duty. “I mustn’t look at Leonore,” he thought, “or I shan’t be attentive.” So he turned his face away from the room heroically. As for Dorothy, she walked away with a smile of contentment. “There, miss,” she remarked, “we’ll see if you can trample on dear old Peter!” “Who’s that girl to whom Mr. Stirling is talking?” asked Leonore of her partner. “Ah, that’s the rich Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia,” replied the scoundrel, in very gentleman-like accents for one of his class. “They say she’s never been able to find a man good enough for her, and so she’s keeping herself on ice till she dies, in hopes that she’ll find one in heaven. She’s a great catch.” “She’s decidedly good-looking,” said Leonore. “Think so? Some people do. I don’t. I don’t like blondes.” When Leonore had progressed as far as her fourth partner, she asked: “What sort of a girl is that Miss Biddle?” “She’s really stunning,” she was told. “Fellows are all wild about her. But she has an awfully snubbing way.” “Is she clever?” “Is she? That’s the trouble. She won’t have anything to do with a man unless he’s clever. Look at her to-night! She got her big fish right off, and she’s driven away every man who’s come near her ever since. She’s the kind of a girl that, if she decides on anything, she does it.” “Who’s her big fish?” said Leonore, as if she had not noticed. “That big fellow, who is so awfully exclusive—Stirling. He doesn’t think any people good enough for him but the Pells, and Miss De Voe, and the Ogdens. What they can see in him I can’t imagine. I sat opposite him once at dinner, this spring, at the William Pells, and he only said three things in the whole meal. And he was sitting next that clever Miss Winthrop.” After the fifth dance, Dorothy came up to Leonore. “It’s going beautifully,” she said; “do you see how Peter has turned his back to the room? And I heard a man say that Miss Biddle was freezing to every man who tried to interrupt them. I must arrange some affairs this week so that they shall have chances to see each other. You will help me?” “I’m very much engaged for this week,” said Leonore. “What a pity! Never mind; I’ll get Peter. Let me see. She rides beautifully. Did Peter bring his horses?” “One,” said Leonore, with a suggestion of reluctance in stating the fact. “I’ll go and arrange it at once,” said Dorothy, thinking that Peter might be getting desperate. “Mamma,” said Leonore, “how old Mrs. Rivington has grown!”