After dinner there was dancing in the great hall. Mr. Blagdon danced several times with Letty, and she found him less formidable than on the former occasion, not so grand, detached, or condescending. She liked him better, or to put it more correctly, disliked him less. He now talked as an ordinary partner, and not as a far-removed magnificent potentate; spoke of his dogs and horses and gardens, and hoped that she might one day see them! Subsequently he made himself conspicuously attentive to Mrs. Fenchurch, sat out with her, and engaged her in a long conversation in the drawing-room, promenaded by her side in the picture gallery, and finally conducted her to supper. This, to the experienced, was a registered symptom that the great Blagdon had intentions respecting the lady’s niece! and the same happy matron, as she sat beside him at table, had much ado to quench the exultation in her face. The following afternoon the party broke up, and the gay and cheery company that sped Letty and her aunt, little guessed how the girl shrank from the impending and enforced _tête-à-tête_ in the family brougham. She dreaded the ordeal as if she were about to undergo some painful physical operation; with all her muscles tense, and leaning far back in her corner, she submitted, whilst her companion, in her most insinuating voice, so to speak, put the question or questions, in return receiving, it must be confessed, very brief, and crooked answers. The hall door stood wide as they drove up to The Holt. Standing on the steps in the full light, Colonel Fenchurch shouted a hearty welcome. He backed into the hall in front of the arrivals, talking all the time. “Missed you both desperately--no piquet--no music--ready to hang myself last night. I say, I’ve kept the toast and scones warm inside the fender--tea will be ready in a jiff. Lots of letters for you, Doodie.” As they entered the warm, well-lighted drawing-room, he turned about to face the ladies, and noticed that his little girl looked brilliantly pretty, as she laid her cold cheek against his, and said: “Such a delightful party, Uncle Tom, and one of the Barrons--Sophy--was at my school.” Yes, he said to himself, it was nice for the child to mix with young people of her own age--it did her good. When tea was over and uncle and niece found themselves alone, she came and sat on the arm of his chair, and rattled off an amusing description of her visit, and repeated for his entertainment many of the jokes and anecdotes that had been bandied about among the company: enumerated the names of the guests, and even of the Bonham house dogs, but made no mention whatever of the great Hugo Blagdon. * * * * *