"So Lady Laura tells me--very much to my regret. I had hoped for the honour of dancing this quadrille with you." "If you knew how rarely Mr. Granger dances, you'd consider yourself rather distinguished, I think, Miss Lovel," said the Captain, laughing. "Well, no, I don't often dance," replied Mr. Granger, with a shade of confusion in his manner; "but really, such a ball as this quite inspires a man--and Lady Laura was good enough to wish me to dance." He remained by Clarissa's side as they walked back through the rooms. They were near the door when Miss Granger met them, looking as cold and prim in her pink crape and pearls as if she had that moment emerged from her dressing-room. "Do you know how late it is, papa?" she asked, contemplating her parent with severe eyes. "Well, no, one does not think of time upon such an occasion as this. I suppose it is late; but it would not do for us of the household to desert before the rest of the company." "I was thinking of saying good-night," answered Miss Granger. "I don't suppose any one would miss me, or you either, papa, if we slipped away quietly; and I am sure you will have one of your headaches to-morrow morning." There is no weapon so useful in the hands of a dutiful child as some chronic complaint of its parent. A certain nervous headache from which Mr. Granger suffered now and then served the fair Sophia as a kind of rod for his correction on occasions. "I am not tired, my dear." "O, papa, I know your constitution better than you do yourself. Poor Lady Laura, how worn out she must be!" "Lady Laura has been doing wonders all the evening," said Captain Westleigh. "She has been as ubiquitous as Richmond at Bosworth, and she has the talent of never seeming tired." Clarissa took the first opportunity of saying good-night. If so important a person as the heiress of Arden Court could depart and not leave a void in the assembly, there could be assuredly no fear that she would be missed. Mr. Granger shook hands with her for the first time in his life as he wished her good-night, and then stood in the doorway watching her receding figure till it was beyond his ken. "I like your friend Miss Lovel, Sophia," he said to his daughter presently. "Miss Lovel is hardly a friend of mine, papa," replied that young lady somewhat sharply. "I am not in the habit of making sudden friendships, and I have not known Miss Lovel a week. Besides which, she is not the kind of girl I care for." "Why not?" asked her father bluntly. "One can scarcely explain that kind of thing. She is too frivolous for me to get on very well with her. She takes no real interest in my poor, in spite of her connection with Arden, or in church music. I think she hardly knows one _Te Deum_ from another."