KITTY FISHER.
Nothing but the most superb propriety was to be expected at
Mrs. Powder's; nevertheless Wych Hazel went escorted by Prim
and Rollo in Dr; Maryland's rockaway. Dr. Maryland himself had
been persuaded to the dinner, and it was on his arm Miss
Kennedy made her entrance upon the company. Something unlike
anything the doctor had ever taken charge of before,--in a
dress of tea-rose colour this time, and with only tea-roses
for trimming.
It was not a large company assembled for dinner, though
everybody was expected in the evening. This was a different
affair from Merricksdale; on old proud family name in the
mistress of the mansion; old fashioned respectability and
modern fashion commingled in the house and entertainment; the
dinner party very strictly chosen. Beyond that fact, it was
not perhaps remarkable. After dinner Dr. Maryland went home;
and gayer and younger began to pour in. Following close upon
Mrs. Merrick's entertainment, this evening too had the
adornment of the full moon; and as this party also was an out-
door one, as much as people chose to have it so, the adornment
was material. A large pleasure ground around the house, half
garden, half shrubbery, was open to promenaders; and at
certain points there were lights and seats and music and
refreshments; the last two not necessarily together. On this
pleasure ground opened the windows of the drawing room and to
this led the steps of the piazza; and so it came to pass in
the course of the evening that the house was pretty well
deserted of all but the elderly part of the guests.
In this state of things, said elderly portion of the company
might as well be at home for all the care they are able to
bestow on the younger. Wandering in shadow and light, in and
out through the winding walks, blending in groups and
scattered in couples, the young friends of Mrs. Powder did
pretty much as they pleased. But one thing Wych Hazel had
cause to suspect as the evening wore on, that though her
guardian proper was fast at-home, she had an active actual
guardian much nearer to her, and in fact never very far off
for long at a time. Indeed he paraded no attentions, either
before Wych Hazel's eyes or the eyes of the public; but if she
wanted anything, Rollo found it out; if she needed anything,
he was at hand to give it. His care did not burden her, nor
make itself at all conspicuous to other people; nevertheless
she surely could not but be conscious of it. This by the way.
Dr. Maryland had not been gone long; the new arrivals were
just pouring in; when a seat beside Wych Hazel was taken by
Mr. Nightingale.
'You were at Merricksdale the other night?' he said after the
first compliments.
'Yes, for a while.'
'I knew you would be. I was in despair that I could not get
there;--but engagements--contretemps--held us fast. I see now how
much I lost.'
'Then you are released from imaginary evils,--that must be a
comfort.'
'Do you know,' said Stuart, 'I think the toilet is a fine
art?'
She did not answer, looking at two or three somewhat
remarkable specimens of the art that just then swept by.
'Who is Miss Fisher, Mr. Nightingale?' she asked suddenly.
'O don't you know Kitty? To be sure, she has just come.'
'No, I do not know her. May I know who she is?'
'Not to know her, argues--Well, it isn't so extreme a case as
that. Miss Fisher, for character, is the most amiable of
persons; for accomplishments, she can do everything; for
connections, (do you always want to know people's
connections?) she is a niece, I believe, of Dr. Maryland's.'
'Of Dr. Maryland's!--O that is good,' said Wych Hazel. 'Is she
like Primrose?'
'She is more--like--a purple snap dragon,' said Stuart,
reflectively. 'Do you read characters in flowers? and then
look out for their moral prototypes in the social world?'
'I do not believe I ever had the credit of "looking out" for
anything!--Good evening, Mr. Simms.'
' "It was the witching hour of night!" '--quoted Mr. Simms with
a deprecating gesture. 'Really, Miss Kennedy, I do not see why
the story books make it out such a misfortune for a man to be
turned to stone. I think, in some circumstances, it is surely
the best thing that can happen to him. There is Nightingale,
now--he would feel no end better for a slight infusion of
silica!'--and with another profound reverence, Mr. Simms moved
off.
'I should like to see the philosopher that would make an
infusion of silica!' muttered Stuart. '_He's_ never drunk it.
What is the use of poets in the world, Miss Kennedy?'
'To furnish people with quotations--as a general thing,' said
Wych Hazel.
'Precisely my idea. And that's stupid, for people don't want
them. It looks bright out among Mrs. Powder's bushes--shall we
go and try how it feels?'
It was pretty, and pleasant. Moonlight and lamps do make a
witching world of it; and under the various lights flitted
such a multitude of gay creatures that Mr. Falkirk's favourite
allusion to Enchanted ground would have been more than usually
appropriate. All the colours in the rainbow, gleaming by turns
in all possible alternations and degrees of light and shadow;
a moving kaleidoscope of humanity; the eye at least was
entertained. And Stuart endeavoured to find entertainment for
the ear of his companion. They wandered up and down, in and
out; not meeting many people; in the changing lights it was
easy to miss anybody at pleasure. In the course of the walk
Stuart begged for a ride with Miss Kennedy, again negatived on
the plea that Miss Kennedy's horses were not yet come. Stuart
immediately besought to be allowed to supply that want for the
occasion. His aunt had a nice little Canadian pony.
'I cannot tell,' said Wych Hazel, gaily. 'You know I must ask
Mr. Falkirk.'
'You do not mean that?' said Stuart.
'Why of course I mean it.'
'Is it possible you are in such bondage? But by the way, there
is going to be some singing presently, which I think you will
like. I have been counting upon it for you.'
'Is there?' she said,--'where? You are right in the fact, Mr.
Nightingale, but quite wrong as to terms. I mean, the terms
give a false impression of the fact. Where is the music to be,
Mr. Rollo?' For Rollo, prowling about in the shrubbery, had at
the moment joined them. He answered rather absently, that he
believed it was to be in the garden.
'Do you understand, Mr. Nightingale?'--Wych Hazel resumed,
turning to her other companion--'that is a mistake.'
'Can you prove it? But apropos, I am right in supposing that
you are fond of music? That is true, isn't it?'
'Very true!'--But she was thinking.--'Mr. Rollo, how can you
always say what you mean, without saying what you do not
mean?' she asked suddenly.
'Choose your audience,' said Rollo.
'I like to say what I mean to anybody!'
'It is a great luxury. But the corresponding luxury of being
understood, is not always at command. Have you been puzzling
Mr. Nightingale?' he asked in an amused voice.
'Only presenting my ideas wrong end first, as usual. Is Miss
Fisher here to-night?--and do you like her, Mr. Rollo?'
'Miss Fisher?--Kitty?--I have not seen her since I came home
from Europe. But there is Prim. I must go and take care of
her.'
He disappeared. The walk and talk of the two others was
prolonged, until faint sweet notes of wind instruments from
afar called them to join the rest of the world.
There was quite a little company gathered at this point, a
small clearing in the shrubbery around one side of which seats
were placed. Here the music lovers (and some others) were
ranged, in a tiny semi-circle, half in shadow, half in light,
as the lamps and moonbeams served. The light came clear upon
half the little spot of greensward; glittering on leaves and
branches beyond, glanced on the tops of trees higher up. A
lively chitter-chatter was going on, after the fashion of such
companies, when Wych Hazel came up, but a moment after the
first notes of the music struck their ears, and all was as
hushed as the moonlight itself. Only the notes of the harmony
floated in and out through the trees; nothing else moved.
Mrs. Powder had managed to secure some good musical talent,
for the performance was of excellent quality. Perhaps summer
air and moonbeams helped the effect. At any rate, the first
performance, a duet between a flute and a violin, was
undoubtedly listened to; and that is saying much. The
performers were out of sight. Then a fine soprano voice
followed, in a favourite opera air.
Wych Hazel was seated near one end of the semi-circle, with
Primrose just behind her; both of them in shadow. Rollo had
been standing in the full light just before them; but during
the singing he was beckoned away and the spot was clear. In
two minutes more Stuart Nightingale had brought a camp chair
to Wych Hazel's side. He was quiet till the song was over and
the little gratified buzz of voices began. Under this cover he
spoke low--
'Have you _two_ guardians, Miss Kennedy?'
'One has answered all my purposes hitherto,' she answered with
a laugh. 'Do I seem to need another?'
'Seem to _have_ another. Pardon me. Do you like to be taken care
of?' He spoke in her own tone.
'By myself--best! If I must speak the truth.'
'Ah, I thought so! who else can do it so well? A fine woman
needs no other control than her own. Am I to be disappointed
of that ride?' He was speaking very softly.
'Well, I will prefer my request,' said Hazel. 'I wish I could
say yes, at once. But how shall I let you now?'
Prim's hand touched her shoulder at this instant, for
delicious notes of two voices stole upon the air from the
hiding place of Mrs. Powder's troup. The lady's voice they had
heard before; it was one of great power and training, and it
came now mingling with a sweet full bass voice. There was no
more talking until the music ended. It was a fine bit from a
German opera.
'How do you like that?' Stuart asked.
Hazel drew a deep breath. 'Can you tell how you like things?'
she said.
'Yes!' said Stuart. 'After we get that ride I am talking of,
I'll tell you how I liked it. By the way, I will do myself the
honour to be the receiver of your answer concerning it. But
_this_ pleasure--no,--yes, I _do_ know why I enjoy it; but it is not
because the voices are fine or the music expressive. Can you
guess?'
'_Not_ for the music, and _not_ for the voices!' said the girl
looking at him.
'A puzzle, isn't it?' said Stuart. 'No; the music expresses
nothing to me--this sort of music; and voices are voices--but--I
care only for voices that I know.'
Another little word of warning from Prim behind her,--'O Hazel,
listen!'--prevented any reply; and Stuart's 'Yes, this is
something, now,'--made it unnecessary. And the singing would
have made it impossible. A man's voice alone; the same rich,
full, sweet bass; in the ballad of the "Three Fishers."
Whether Mr. Nightingale had divined that somebody was near who
knew Wych Hazel, or merely acted on general prudential
motives, he left his seat and stood a little apart while the
ballad was sung.
'Do you like that?' Primrose whispered.
'The voice--not the ballad.'
'Nor I either,' said Prim. 'I don't see what he sings it for.'
There was but a moment's interval, and then the same voice
began another strain, so noble, so deep, so thrilling, that
every breath was held till it had done. The power of the voice
came out in this strain; the notes were wild, pleading,
agonizing, yet with slow, sweet human melody. The air thrilled
with them; they seemed to float off and lose themselves
through the woods; sadly, grandly, the song breathed and fell
and ceased. Wych Hazel did not speak nor stir, nor look,
except on the ground, even when the last notes had died away.
Only her little hands held each other very close, her cheeks
resting on them.
'Yes, I know,' said Primrose softly. 'That is Handel.'
Stuart Nightingale presently slid back to his seat; and now
there came a stir; the music was discontinued. In a few
minutes Rollo came bringing refreshments; Mr. Nightingale
bestirred himself in the same cause; and presently they were
all eating ices and fruits. At which juncture Miss Josephine
joined herself to the party, with one or two of her sort,
while several gentlemen began to "fall in," behind Miss
Kennedy.
'Did you have a good time at Merricksdale?' Josephine asked.
'Not better than usual,' Hazel answered.
'Danced, didn't you? I wanted mamma to have dancing to-night,
and she wouldn't. She's so awfully slow! O Mr. Rollo, do you
like dancing?'
'On anything but my own feet,' said Rollo.
'Anything but your own feet? How _can_ you dance on anything but
your own feet?'
'My horse's feet? Or what do you think of a good yacht and a
good breeze?'
'Horrid! I never want to be in one. And _don't_ you like
dancing? O why? Don't you, Miss Kennedy? don't you, Mr.
Nightingale?'
'Depends on the dance,' said Stuart. 'And on my partner.'
'O it don't signify what partner you have. In fact, you dance
with everybody, you know. That is the best fun. Don't you like
the German, Miss Kennedy?'
'Not with everybody,' said Miss Kennedy, thinking of possible
partners.
'O but you must, you know, in the German--and that's the fun. I
don't think anything else _is_ fun. Of course the people are all
proper. Don't you like the German, Mr. Rollo?'
'I do not dance it.'
'_Not?_ Don't you? O why? You do dance, I know, for I've seen
you; you waltz like a German, a man, I mean. Why don't you
dance the German?'
'How does a German--a man, I mean--waltz, Miss Phinney? as
distinguished from other nationalities?' Stuart asked.
'O, different.'
'Wont you tell us in what way? This is interesting.'
'It wont help you,' said Josephine; 'and you dance well,
besides. A German waltzes slow and elegantly.'
'And other people?'--
'You may laugh, but it's true; I've noticed it. An Englishman
sways and a Frenchman spins, but a German floats. O it's just
delicious! Why dont you dance the German, Dane Rollo? You're
not pious.'
Rollo did not join in the general smile. He answered
composedly--
'What I would not let my sister do, Miss Josephine, I am bound
not to ask of another lady.'
'Why wouldn't you let your sister? You haven't got one, and
don't know. But that's being awfully strict. I had no idea you
were so strict. I thought you were jolly.'
'Could you hinder your sister?' Stuart asked with a slight
laugh. The answer was, however, unhesitating.
'Why would you hinder her?' repeated Josephine.
'Ask Kitty Fisher.'
'Kitty? Does _she_ know? And why shouldn't you tell us as well
as her?'
Rollo took Miss Kennedy's plate at the instant and went off
with it.
'That's all bosh,' said Josephine. 'I like people that are
jolly. The German is real jolly. Last week we danced it with
candles--it was splendid fun.'
'Not here?' said one of the gentlemen.
'Here? No. You bet. My mother is my mother, and nobody ever
charged her with being jolly, I suppose.'
'How could you dance with candles?' said Primrose's astonished
voice.
'Yes. Six of us had great long wax candles, lighted; and we
stood up on a chair.'
'Six of you on a chair!'
'The old question of the schoolmen!'--cried Nightingale,
bursting into a laugh.
'Of course on six chairs, I mean. Of course. Six of us on a
chair!'--
'But what did you get on chairs for?'
'Why!--then the gentlemen danced round us, and at the signal--
the leader gave the signal--the gentlemen jumped up as high as
they could and tried to blow out our lights; and they had to
keep step and jump; and if any gentleman could blow out the
candle nearest him he could dance with that lady. Didn't we
make them jump, though! We held our candles up so high, you
know, they could not get at them. Unless we liked somebody and
wanted him for a partner. O we had a royal time!'
'Did the gentlemen dance--and blow--indiscriminately?' inquired
Miss Kennedy with a curl of her lips.
'No, no!--how you do tell things, Josephine!' said Miss Burr.
'Two gentlemen for each chair,--and whichever of the two put
the candle out, he danced with the lady.'
'Kitty had four or five round her chair'--said Josephine.
'And couldn't the lady help herself?' inquired Primrose, in a
tone of voice which called forth a universal burst of
laughter.
'Why we _did_,' said Josephine. 'If you don't like a man, you
hold the candle up out of his reach.'
'You couldn't baffle everybody so,' remarked Mr. Kingsland.
Several gentlemen had come up during the talk, closing in
round Miss Kennedy.
'Mr. Rollo is right about one thing,' said Miss Burr; 'nobody
has seen the German who has not seen it led by Kitty Fisher.
You should see her dance it, Miss Kennedy.'
'Yes, you should,' echoed Mr. May, 'I had rather look on than
be in it, for my part.'
'What do you think she did at Catskill the other day?' said
Miss Burr. 'She took a piece of ice between her teeth, and
went round the piazza asking all the gentlemen to take a
bite.'
'Clever Kitty! She'll work that up into a new figure--see if
she dont,'--said Mr. Kingsland.
'To be called the _noli me tangere!_' said Mr. May. 'Partners
secured at the melting point.' The other gentlemen laughed.
'I see you and Kitty are at swords' points yet,' said Miss
Burr.
'No,' put in Rollo--'she likes a foil better than a rapier.'
'Certainly it does not sound as if she was like you,
Primrose,' observed Wych Hazel.
'Like Miss Maryland!--Hardly,' said Mr. May. 'Nor like any one
your thoughts could even imagine,' he added softly.
It was growing late now, and the moon gradually passing along
behind the trees, found a clear space at this point, and
looked down full at the little party to see what they were
about. Just then, from the distance, came a stir and a murmur
and sound of laughing voices.
'She's coming this minute!' said Mr. Kingsland. ' "Talk about
angels"!--Your curiosity will soon be fed, Miss Kennedy,--and
may, perchance, like other things, grow by what it feeds on.
Here comes the redoubtable Kitty herself!--Miss Fisher!--my poor
eyes have seen nothing since they last beheld you!'
'Don't see much in ordinary,' said a gay voice; and a young
lady,--too young, alas, for the part she was playing!--swept
into the circle. A very handsome girl, with a coronet of fair
hair, from which strayed braids and curls and crinkles and
puffs and bands and flowers and ribbands; her dress in the
extremest extremity of the fashion, very long, very low; with
puffs and poufs innumerable; the whole borne up by the highest
and minutest pair of heels that ever a beguiling shoemaker
sent forth. She nodded, laughing, and held out her hands right
and left.
'How d'ye do, Stephen?--Mr. Richard May!'--with a profound
reverence. 'And if there isn't our Norwegian back again! Glad
to see you, Mr. Rollo. Have you leaned how to spell your name
yet?'
But to this lady Rollo gave one of his Spanish salutations;
while Phinny Powder jumped up and exclaimed with pleasure, and
Primrose uttered from behind them her quiet 'how d'ye do
Kitty?' Wych Hazel on her part had risen too--drawing a little
back from the front, in the sudden desire for a distant view
first.
'I see,' Miss Fisher went on, speaking to Rollo.--'The e in the
middle as usual, and the i and the g to keep it there. Why,
Prim, my dear child!--you here? Among all these black coats of
unclerical order?--How do you do?'--with an embrace. 'And how is
my uncle?--But where is Miss Kennedy? I am dying to see Miss
Kennedy!--and they told me she was here.'
'The time to die is--_after_ you have seen Miss Kennedy,' said
Mr. Kingsland.
'To my face!' said Kitty. 'Well!--That is she, I know, behind
Mr. May. Introduce us Richard, please.'
Mr. May stepped aside, and with extreme formality presented
Miss Fisher to the lady of Chickaree. Kitty touched hands,--and
paused, forgetting to take her own away. The young 'unwonted'
face was certainly a novelty to her. And a surprise.
'We shall all be jealous of her for her little mouth,' was her
first remark. 'Don't everybody generally kiss you, child, that
comes near enough?'
Wych Hazel withdrew her hand, stepping back again in her
astonishment, and surveying Miss Fisher.
'People do not--generally--come near enough,' she said, as well
as it could be said.
There was a little round of applause from the gentlemen at
that. Kitty Fisher nodded, not at all displeased.
'She'll do,' she said. 'I was afraid she was nothing but a
milksop,--all strawberries and cream. I vow she's handsome!'
'Handsome is that handsome does,' said Rollo. 'Miss Kitty,
will you sit down and take things calmly?'--offering a chair.
'Yes, I'll take the chair; and Miss Kennedy and I'll divide
the civil speech between us,' said Kitty Fisher, placing
herself close by Hazel. 'It's awfully nice here. What are you
all about?'
'Just unable to get on for want of Miss Fisher,' said Stuart.
'Calling for you, in fact.'
'Echo answering "Where?" and all that,' said Kitty.
'Not at all. Echo said you were coming.'
'No dancing to-night?--awfully slow, isn't it? Beg pardon,
Phinny; but you think just so yourself. Go off and start up
the band into a waltz, and we'll have it out before the old
lady gets the idea into her head. Come?'
Phinny started off on the instant with such energy and
goodwill to her errand, that in a few minutes the burst of a
waltz air in the immediate neighbourhood of the parties
requiring it, said that Miss Josephine had been successful.
And she said it herself.
'There!' she exclaimed; 'we've got it. Mamma'll never care, if
she hears, nor know, if she sees. Come! Here are enough of
us.'
One and another couple sailed off from the group. Stuart
offered his hand to Wych Hazel. 'You waltz?' he said.
She gave hers readily. The music had put her on tiptoe. And
presently the little green was full of flying footsteps and
fluttering draperies. As many as there was room for took the
ground; but there was good room, and the waltz was spirited.
Some stood and looked on; some beat time with their feet. In a
shadow of the corner where they had been talking, stood Prim
and Rollo; _not_ beating time. Prim put her hand on his arm, but
neither spoke a word.
'Shall we take a tangent,--and finish our stroll?' whispered
Stuart, when they had whirled round the circle several times.
'If you like,--one is ready for anything in such a night,' said
Hazel gleefully. She had gone round much like a thistledown,
with a child's face and movement of pleasure. So, suddenly and
silently, as they were passing one of the alleys that led out
from the little green, Stuart and his partner disappeared from
the eyes of the spectators. It was certainly a pleasant night
for a stroll. The light made such new combinations of old
things, took and gave such new views; the pleasure of looking
for them and finding them was ensnaring. Then the air was very
sweet and soft, and--so was Stuart's conversation.
Gliding on from one thing to another, even as their footsteps
went,--mingling fun and fancy and common-place and flattery in
a very agreeable sort of _pot-pourri_,--so they followed down one
alley of the shrubbery and up another; winding about and
about, but keeping at a distance from other people. Until,
much too soon for Stuart's intent, they were suddenly and
quietly joined at a fork of the paths by Rollo, with Miss
Fisher on his arm.
As the waltz ceased, Rollo had secured without difficulty the
companionship of Miss Fisher for a walk; and Miss Fisher never
knew how peculiar a walk it was, nor imagined that her
cavalier was following a very fixed and definite purpose of
his own. Nothing seemed less purposeful than the course they
took; it was no course; from one path diverging into another,
changing from one direction to another; a hunted hare would
scarce make more doublings, or anything else, except the dog
in chase of the hare. Kitty only knew that she was very well
amused; her companion never left that doubtful, nor allowed
her much leisure to make inconvenient observations; and, in
short, Kitty did not care where they went!--and Rollo did care.
So it fell out, that quite suddenly, and as much to his
companion's surprise as anybody's, quite easily and naturally
they stepped out of one walk into another just as Wych Hazel
and her attendant came to the same spot.
'Your old proverbs are all stuff,' Kitty was saying to her
companion. 'I do think she's the prettiest thing I ever saw.
Only she don't know her tools. Just wait till I've had her in
training a while!'
'Miss Kennedy,' said Rollo, 'how would you like to be in
training?' They had somehow joined company with Stuart and
Wych Hazel, not by the former's good will, but he could not
manage to help it.
'I may as well reserve my views on that subject for somebody
who wants to try,' said the girl, with a laugh. She had not
heard Kitty Fisher.
'On what point just now do you think you need it?'
'I am in an extremely contented state of mind "just now,"
thank you, Mr. Rollo.'
'Miss Fisher would not think that proves anything.'
'Does Miss Kitty offer her services as trainer?' asked Stuart.
'Now just wait, both of you,' said Kitty Fisher, 'and let Miss
Kennedy get used to me a little. She's awfully shocked, to
begin with; and you're trying to make believe she'll never get
over it.'
A slight gesture of Miss Kennedy's head, unseen by Miss Kitty,
seemed to say that was extremely probable.
'You should let her get accustomed to you by degrees,' said
Stuart. 'Hover about in the middle distance, suppose, without
getting out of the range of vision--so that you may make your
approaches to her heart through her eyes. That is an excellent
way.'
'Is it?' said Kitty. 'You've tried all ways, I presume. But I
notice that just now you seem to prefer the ear as a medium.
Wouldn't she be splendid in the "Thread of Destiny," Stuart?'
'I should think so, if I were at the end of the thread!'
'You would not suppose it, Miss Kennedy,' said Rollo; 'but the
"Thread of Destiny" is a silk ribband. The destiny is not
therefore always silken.'
'Much you know about it!' said Kitty. 'I just wish I could see
you thoroughly wound up for once, with Bell Powder and two or
three other people.'
'Wych Hazel was growing rather weary of the talk. 'Who were
the singers to-night, Mr. Nightingale?' she said, pitching her
voice for his benefit alone.
'Really,' said he, in an answering tone, 'I am not musical
enough to be certain about it. Voices in common speech I can
understand and appreciate; but in this kind of manifestation--
Mrs. Powder knows her business. She had secured the right sort
of thing. The principal singer is a lady who has studied
abroad; they are all visitors or dwellers in the
neighbourhood. Did you like the performance?'
'Some of it; but the singing above all. You cannot understand
that?'
'If you and Miss Kennedy want to whisper,' said Kitty Fisher,
'fall back a little, can't you, Mr. Nightingale? or turn down
another path. It disturbs my own train of thought, this trying
to hear what other people say.'
'Nobody would suspect Miss Fisher,' said Rollo, dryly, 'of
being unwilling that anybody should hear what _she_ has to say.'
'Do you know,' said Kitty, turning upon him with an
emphasizing pressure of the arm she held, 'what my thoughts
really _are_ at work upon?'
'Yes.'
'Let's hear. Tell me, and I'll tell you.'
'I do not think,' said Rollo, slowly,--'it would be expedient.'
'Fudge! You know you couldn't. I have been trying to find out
what so extremely sedate a person was after when he undertook
to walk me round in the moonlight!'
And in defiance of everything, Wych Hazel's soft 'Ha! ha!'
responded,--a little as if the question had perplexed her too.
'Have you had a good time?' said Rollo coolly.
'Very!--which makes it the more puzzling. Did Mr. Rollo ever
walk with you in the moonlight, Miss Kennedy?'
'Yes.'
'Have a good time?' said Kitty.
The girl hesitated; but among her accomplishments the art of
pretty fibs had not been included. The truth had to come out
in some shape.
'So far as Mr. Rollo could make it,'--she said at last.
O how Kitty Fisher laughed! and the gentlemen both smiled.
'Why, that is capital!' she cried. 'I couldn't have done
better myself!' Wych Hazel blushed painfully; but Rollo's
answer was extremely unconcerned.
'I don't always give people a good time,' he said. 'You are
fortunate, Miss Kitty. I am impelled to ask, in this
connection, how long Mrs. Powder expects us to make our good
times this evening?'
Upon comparing watches in the moonlight, it was found that the
night was well on its way. There was nothing more to do but to
go home.
On the way home, a little bit of talk occurred in the
rockaway, which may be reported. Going along quietly in the
bright moonlit road, Rollo driving, Primrose suddenly asked a
question--
'Didn't you use to be a great waltzer, Duke?'
'A waltzer?--yes.'
'Then what made you not waltz to-night?'
Rollo leaned back against one side of the rockaway, and
answered, while the old horse walked leisurely on--,
'I have looked at the subject from a new point of view, Prim.'
'Have you?--From what point of view, Duke?' said Primrose, much
interested.
'I have made up my mind,' said Rollo slowly, 'I shall waltz no
more,--except with the lady who will be my wife. And when I
waltz with her,--she will waltz with nobody else!'
Prim sat back in her corner, and spoke not a word more.