“Oh, here comes Cousin Maude.”
“Well, Letty, here I am,” said Mrs. Hesketh, as she entered. “I’ve come to hear about the ball, how everyone looked and behaved, what they wore, who sat out as wallflowers, or otherwise? and I particularly wish to see your programme. I haven’t had one in my hand for ten years. Where is it?”
“How tiresome,” thought the girl; one would suppose that her wretched little card, was something remarkable.
The programme happened to be at the top of the house, and when Letty returned with it in her hand she found her aunt talking to Cousin Maude with unusual empressement. She was sitting close beside her on the sofa, pouring some important statement into her ear.
Whatever she was saying was interrupted by the entrance of her niece, who caught the words:
“Eyes for no one else!” Mrs. Fenchurch paused and nodded significantly at her companion, as much as to say:
“Of this—more later.”
“And so I hear your dress looked lovely, Letty, and that you had a great success. Now hand me over that programme,” said Mrs. Hesketh with a smile. “Ah, yes, I see every dance, and all manner of strange autographs and initials. I declare you ought to have this photographed! And so you enjoyed yourself very much, dear child?”
“Oh, immensely,” she answered, with a happy sigh; the little drawbacks were now fading, the strains of a delicious waltz were ringing in her ears, and she was floating round the room in the arms of Lancelot Lumley.
“And you are going to a dinner and dance this day week—why, you are getting quite gay!”