"College all over, isn't he?" commented Jane; "his shoulders, and the way he parts his hair." "The best boy in the world," said Mrs. Bates, plumply, "He has been with his father for the last four years, and he's come to be a real help to him. Gets to the office at eight o'clock, rain or shine, and loves nothing better than to sit and grub there all day long. Steady as a rock. Splendid future. Holds his own nose to the grindstone like a real little lamb. I hope he asked Rosamund for supper." The young man presently reappeared, making his way behind the long tier of upper boxes. "Well, my boy, were you forgetting all about your mother and her elderly friends? I'd never figured on your meeting the younger daughter first. My son William, Miss Marshall. William, here's an awfully good girl; her father thinks as much of her as I do of you." The young man bowed, but blushed and halted before this singular presentation. "Well, I don't know," said Jane, filling up the breach in the first fashion that presented itself. "If pa had the same gift of language that you have, I should feel surer." She picked out her puffs, and then leaned back negligently with her hands crossed. She was too thoroughly grounded by this time to be discomposed by any youth seven or eight years her junior. The youth shifted his feet. "I saw you with my sister a minute ago," continued Jane. She knew, without looking round to see, that Mrs. Bates was smiling in the anxious, would-be-helpful way of parents who have put their offspring at a disadvantage. "Yes--oh yes," the young man responded, with precipitation. "We had a very nice polka, indeed." "Well," said Jane to herself, "I can talk about polkas and lots of other things." And she did. She held and entertained the young man for a full ten minutes. She found, after all, that he was in no degree constrained or backward, and she made him do himself justice. "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Bates, as he withdrew, "you made my Billy quite brilliant. I don't know when I have heard so much real conversation!" "That's all right," responded Jane; "I was young myself once. I haven't forgotten that." "Only you mustn't fascinate him," protested the elder woman, with a burlesque of maternal anxiety. "I want somebody else to do _that_." She gave Jane a smile full of meaning. "Aha!" thought Jane, and wondered if she were to see a certain little romance resumed after the lapse of so many lumbering years. "But she didn't seem to mind Paston any. Well, why should she?" concluded Jane. Presently Truesdale came along and asked his sister to waltz. "All right," she said; "just for a minute; but not out in the middle--yet." She wished to test herself first. "You're awfully good to me, Dicky," she whispered, as he led her back. "Cut it," said Truesdale; "I'm proud of you." Jane got back to her lofty perch. "I'll do it once more--if anybody asks me; yes, I will."