What passed between little Gatty and her
escort, and whether anything passed on the
subject of china bowls, nobody knows. The walk
did not last longer than ten minutes. My
private opinion is, that Dick treated Gatty all the
way with the respect and deference due to a
young princess accidentally committed to his
care. When he returned to his game of chess,
what with the remaining fumes of that bottle of
wine, the extraordinary dream, and this odd
approach to an interpretation of it, it is
certain that he was in a romantic mood. He
willingly listened to a long history of the Blands,
during which Mr. and Mrs. Doctor maintained a
laudatory duet very different indeed from the
imaginary duet between Fanny and Florence.

"I only wish," cried the doctor, at last,
"that I had a son of thirty, or thirty-five, with a
good house, a good income, and a good heart,
I would recommend him Gatty Bland for a wife
with all my heart and soul, and he would thank
me every year of his life ever afterwards, even
though he had to marry her whole family along
with her!"

"Miss Bland," said Mr. Blorage, "spoke of
a nomination—no, by-the-by, she didn't—it was
a china bowl—dear me, what do I mean—I think
I hardly know what I do mean!"

"You look rather wild, Dick; of course I
can't help you out. I don't know what you
discoursed upon in your walk; but there appears
to me no affinity between a nomination for the
Blue-coat School and a china bowl."

"Oh! that's what she wants, is it? Blue-
coat School! God bless my soul! Really a
nomination, eh? Blue coat! Ah!—Check to your
queen!"

Notwithstanding that check, Dick lost the
game. But he went home in a felicitous state
of mind, that made him feel as if he had won
the game. He continued to repeat the word
"Blue" to himself, as if he were under an
obligation never to forget it; he went up to his
bedroom, chuckling "Blue!" he undressed,
chuckling "Blue;" he sat up in bed, after lying
down, with a vehement "Blue;" and his last
recollection was a struggle to say
"Bluenomicoatation."

VI.

Mr. Blorage arose in a contented and happy
frame of mind. The great day was the greatest
of successes; nothing marred the triumph of
the dinner, nothing marred the beauty of the
ball. The hard-faced dowager sat in the chair,
but she was just as forcible and disagreeable as
usual: no more and no less. Mr. Blorage
danced with Lady Fitzcluck, and bespoke
Fanny, and Florence, and Gatty. For Gatty was
there, demurely happy. Trust Mr. and Mrs.
Doctor for Gatty's being there!

Florence looked most beautiful. She was
charmingly dressed, in white tarlatan—three
skirts—pinked—each skirt looped up with
a mixture of white roses and pomegranate
blossoms. A wreath of the same for her hair.
Fanny was dressed in floating robes of blue—less
blue than her eyes. Her fair curls were twined
with silver leaves: she looked like a nymph;
Florence like a queen. Not the greatest gossip
in the room could say which was the favourite.
Neither could the greatest, or the least, gossip in
the room decide at what particular moment the
star of both descended below Mr. Blorage's
horizon.

But he has confided to somebody, who
confided it to me, who now confide it to you, that
Miss Florence ceased to be beautiful in his eyes
when she sneered at the plainness of the Miss
Blands' muslin dresses. "And it is real ivy
in their hair, Mr. Blorage, so they can't have
gone to any great expense to do honour to your
ball." And Miss Florence glanced down at her
own dress.

"I like them all the better for it," stoutly
answered Dick.

As to Miss Fanny, she was so astonished at
the impertinence of such people as the Blands
thrusting themselves into society so much above
them! And her star descended, at the instant
when she was thus overcome.

Mr. Blorage accomplished his dances with
Fanny and with Florence, but did not accomplish
his dance with Gatty Bland. For on the
instant that he claimed her hand, Dr. Evans
(sent off by his wife presently after dinner)
returned from taking care of Mrs. Bland.

"Oh! Mr. Blorage, I must go—thank you
so much for the happiest evening I ever spent,
and the prettiest sight I ever saw!"

"No no no, you must not go; a quadrille takes
only twenty minutes to dance."

"But mamma is alone now, and I should be
quite unhappy all that twenty minutes, even
though dancing with you. But there is Jenny,
she dances so well, and she loves it so much, and
—don't think me conceited, Mr. Blorage—she is
so pretty."

"She is the prettiest girl in the room—but
one," says Mr. Blorage in a whisper. And as
he assists Gatty to put on her cloak, he sees her,
with unspeakable admiration, tie her little laced
handkerchief over her head and under her chin,
and look so indescribably like the dear darling
little creature of his vision, that he longs—
infamous as is (of course) the thought—to clasp
her, then and there, to his heart! But instead of
doing so, he flies back to the ball-room, and
engages Jenny out of hand. Thus Gatty, when
she went home, was able to tell her mother that
she took a last peep at the beautiful scene, and
saw kind Mr. Blorage asking Jenny to dance,
and Jenny looking as pretty as even those two
lovely cousins Florence and Fanny. "They say
Mr. Blorage is to marry one of them, mamma,
but I hope not."

"Oh, my Gatty!"

"Well, mamma, you know I see a good deal
of them, here and there, and I am sure they are
only pretty girls. They do not appreciate his
great noble generous heart. But now, mamma,
to bed you must go. No more excitement for
you to-night."

Happily, the excitement in the little family
lasted a good many days, and afforded food for