“I see, perhaps, more that I am supposed to see; but I don’t pretend to be omniscient, Charley, as you give me credit for.” “With an eye for everything,” he said, laughing--“for our vagaries, all and sundry, and for the supper, and for Vicars and who knows how many private matters besides.” “Vicars,” said Gussy; “he is the least of mamma’s cares, I should think. He is the most invaluable person for such a party as we had last night. He is the best servant I ever saw, though one might think, as he does so little household work, that he would get out of the way. But he doesn’t. He never forgets anything----” “Oh, that’s a great deal to say,” said Meredith, again with a laugh. “I think I’ve seen occasions on which he has been caught out.” Mrs. Harwood took no notice of this, though her attention quickened. “Vicars,” she said, tranquilly, “is a very old servant; but I think you may give me some credit, for I superintended everything last night.” Meredith gave Janet a look. Did anybody see it, could anyone notice it, but herself? The secret that they both knew seemed to burn between them like a link of fire. “Everything,” he said, “is a big word.” The laugh with which he accompanied this seemed to Janet full of suggestion, and as if he intended his hearers to understand that there was something beneath; but this was probably only her excited consciousness, for he began at once to plunge into details of how Miss Robinson danced all the evening with Mr. Green, and the hard ado he himself had to prevent two rival mothers from coming to blows. “For I hope you all saw how I devoted myself to supper and the old ladies,” he said. “You did not dance very much, I perceived,” said Gussy. “No; and chiefly with the plain people, the people who had no partners.” He sent a laughing glance towards Janet. “Indeed, I think I may give myself credit for having quite fulfilled my _rôle_ of the next friend--the next after the son of the house.” “Dolff does not understand his duties in that way,” said Mrs. Harwood. “He dances with all the prettiest people, and never goes near the dowagers; but Charley, I think, is taking too much credit to himself.” “You seem to me,” said Dolff, returning from the outer room still with his hands in his pockets, “to be making a great deal of talk about nothing. I didn’t see that it required such dreadful exertions to make the dance go off. It went off of itself, as dances usually do, so far as I can see.” “Dolff settles the matter like a Daniel come to judgment. Well, I can only say for myself that last night is one that I shall remember all my life. For finding out more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in anyone’s philosophy, commend me to a dance.” “Finding out?” said Gussy, with a look of surprise. “Oh, yes; the hearts are uncovered like the shoulders, and all the corners of the house open. Don’t you agree with me, Miss Summerhayes?”