“But you’ll be tired.”
“Not particularly tired. It is not so very far. I’d go back in the carriage, only of course we can’t because of the habits. Oh, yes; I’m very fond of dancing,—very fond indeed. We always have two balls every year at Slowbridge. And there are some others about the county. I don’t think you ever have balls at Beetham.”
“There is no one to give them.”
“Does Miss Dugdale ever dance?”
The Major had to think for a moment before he could answer the question. Why should Miss Wanless ask as to Alice’s dancing? “I am sure she does. Now I think of it I have heard her talk of dancing. You don’t know Alice Dugdale?” Miss Wanless shook her head. “She is worth knowing.”
“I am quite sure she is. I have always heard that you thought so. She is very good to all those children; isn’t she?”
“Very good indeed.”
“She would be almost pretty if she wasn’t so,—so, so dumpy I should say.” Then they got on their horses again and rode back to Brook Park. Let Georgiana be ever so tired she did not show it, but rode in under the portico with perfect equestrian grace.
“I’m afraid you took too much out of her,” said Lady Wanless to the Major that evening. Georgiana had gone to bed a little earlier than the others.
This was in some degree hard upon him, as he had not proposed the ride,—and he excused himself. “It was you arranged it all, Lady Wanless.”