As soon as they reached the party Helena exclaimed, "Flora, what is the matter? You look so pale!"
"I have sprained my ankle, I believe, and it hurts me a little."
"Quel malheur! Then you will not be able to dance to-night. A loss to you gentlemen, I can tell you. Flora was pronounced to be the best dancer at the Wiltons' ball!"
"We are all aware of Miss Adair's superior dancing," rejoined Mr. Caulfield, "except perhaps Mr. Earnscliffe; and, being her countryman, as the painter before a celebrated masterpiece said, 'anch' io son pittore!' I can say, 'I, too, am Irish!'"
"But," said Flora, laughing, "there is a slight difference between the two arts. One of my mistresses at school remarked, on hearing dancing praised, 'Yes, dancing is certainly a great accomplishment; dogs can be taught to do it so well!' We have yet to learn that dogs can be taught to paint."
To poor Flora's great comfort, the gate and the carriages beyond it now came in sight. Mrs. Adair and Mrs. Elton were already seated. As the former saw Flora limping and leaning on Mr. Earnscliffe's arm, she said, "My child, what has happened?" Flora answered that she had hurt her ankle a little, and then she got into the carriage, kindly and skilfully helped by Mr. Earnscliffe, who, as he shook hands with Mrs. Adair, asked permission to call on the next day to inquire after the invalid, which request was of course granted. Mrs. Elton pressed him to come to them in the evening; he refused politely, but firmly; accepting, however, Mrs. Penton's offer of a seat in their carriage back to Rome.
And so ended the croquet party at Frascati.