She followed the stream, and, climbing some stairs, came out into a large, long, empty hay-loft, over what had once been hunting stables--the children’s wet-day play-place. The deputation dispatched to the house had managed to get up there the schoolroom piano, and one of the curates sat down to it, and began playing dance music, while Miss Mohun, Miss Hacket, and the other ladies began arranging couples for a country dance--all girls, of course, except that Lord Rotherwood danced with the tiny premium girl, and Harry with Primrose. Wilfred and Fergus could not be incited to make the attempt; Mysie offered herself to Dolores, but in vain. ‘I hate dancing,’ was all the answer she got, and she went off to persuade Lois, the nursery girl. Constance Hacket arranged herself on a chair, and looked out from between two curates; there was no getting at her. Then there came a pause; Lord Rotherwood spoke to Gillian, and must have asked her to point Dolores out, for presently he made his way to the little dark figure in the window, and, kindly laying his hand on her shoulder, asked whether she had heard from her father yet. ‘No, I suppose you can’t,’ he added. ‘It is a great break-up for you; but you are a lucky girl to be taken in here! It reminds me of what Beechcroft used to be to me when I was a stray fish, though not quite so lonely as you are. Make the most of it, for there aren’t many in these days like Aunt Lily there!’ ‘He little knows,’ thought Dolores, as a waltz began to be played. ‘They want an example,’ he said. ‘Come along. You know how, I’m sure--a Londoner like you!’ Pairs were whirling about the floor in full career in a short time, to the astonishment of other maidens who had never seen dancing in their lives. Dolores, afraid to refuse, and certainly flattered, really was wonderfully exhilarated and brightened by her career wither good-natured cousin. ‘I do believe Cousin Rotherwood has shaken her out of the dumps,’ observed Gillian to Aunt Jane, who returned-- ‘He can do it if any one can.’ The funny thing was the effect upon Constance, who, in the next pause, shook off her curates, advanced to Dolores, who was recovering her breath under the window, called her a dear thing whom she had not been able to get to all this time, sat rather forward with an arm round her waist for the next half-hour, and, when Sir Roger de Coverley was getting up, proposed that they should be partners, but not till she had seen Lord Rotherwood pair himself off with Mysie. ‘I must,’ said he to Lady Merrifield, ‘it’s so like dancing with honest Phyl.’ ‘The greatest compliment you could have, Mysie,’ said her mother, looking very much pleased. The last yellow patches of evening sunshine on the sloping roof faded; watches were looked at, the music turned to the National Anthem, everybody stood up, or stood still, and sung it. Then at the close, Mr. Leadbitter stood by the piano and said--