"I wonder which is Sir Edward?" whispers Doris to Honor; "they are neither of them half so good-looking as Lancelot." For Mr. Ferrars has merely said "my cousins" in introducing them to the girls.
But at this moment there is a little stir near the door, and the next moment the Earl and Countess of Castleton, with their daughters, Lady Anne and Lady Margaret Trevelyan, enter the room.
As the host and hostess have been waiting for the arrival of this party before giving the signal for the dancing to commence, Lancelot immediately leads the way to the hall with Lady Castleton. The rest of the guests follow, Lord Castleton, rather to Doris's surprise, begging the honour of the first dance with her, while the two "cousins" bear off the Ladies Anne and Margaret.
Doris, though appearing pleased enough, nevertheless feels rather put out. As she had looked forward to dancing the first dance with Lancelot, she cannot help wondering why he should be opening the ball with Lady Castleton, instead of his cousin Sir Edward. Lord Castleton does not mend matters in her opinion by planting himself and her immediately opposite to Lancelot and his partner, thus giving her precedence of Lady Anne and Lady Margaret.
The girl is so confused with this (to her) odd arrangement that her conversational powers are seriously affected, and she thinks to herself what a stupid little thing she must appear to his lordship. She sees in the distance, in another set, Honor with John Sinclair, and Molly with Lord Hinton, a friend and college chum of Lancelot's, who has come down with him, and she finds herself privately thinking that if her partner were any other than Lord Castleton she would insist on leaving this very select set and joining the other.
She makes the best of it, however, and meeting a little affectionate and encouraging glance from her vis-à-vis just as the band plays the opening bars of the quadrille, she brightens up, and chats to her elderly partner while gracefully moving through the figures in a manner which quite charms his lordship.
Doris is once more standing by her aunt's side when Lancelot hurries up. "I must have this one waltz before I do any more duty dances, Doris. Come along!" and in another instant they are gliding round the room together. After several turns Mr. Ferrars guides her to the end of the hall, where some heavy curtains are hung. He lifts one, and Doris, looking a little surprised, passes through. They are now in a sort of inner hall, and hurrying Doris down it he throws open one of the doors and stands aside for her to enter. It is a cosy-looking study which they are now standing in, the windows, like those of nearly all the rooms on that side, leading straight to the garden. The only thing, however, that Doris notices particularly in the room itself is a nearly full-length portrait of Lancelot over the mantel-piece.
"Are you tired?" he asks, putting her into a comfortable lounging-chair, and taking his stand by the fireplace, one elbow resting on the mantel-piece.
"Tired!—after only two dances? Why, I shouldn't expect to be tired if I danced all night long, Lancelot."
"And now, tell me, Doris," he says after a short pause, "how do you like Sir Edward?"