After a time the men came from the dining-room and rejoined the ladies.
Patty was chatting with a group of young women, and when she glanced around, it was to see Lord Ruthven standing at her side.
“I was miles away from you at dinner,” he said, “but now there is an opportunity, let us begin our lessons in English at once.”
“Do,” said Patty, smiling; “where shall be our classroom?”
“We’ll pre-empt this sofa,” said Lord Ruthven, indicating, as he spoke, a gold-framed Louis XIV. tête-à-tête. “We’ll pretend that it is a real schoolroom, with four walls hung with maps and charts—just such as you used to have when you were a little girl.”
Patty smiled at this reference to her far-away school-days, but fell in with his mood.
“Yes,” she said, “and you must be the stern schoolmaster, and I the stupid pupil who has been kept in after school.”
But their merry game was interrupted by Lady Herenden’s invitation to the ballroom.
Escorted by Lord Ruthven, Patty followed the others to the great hall where they were to dance.
It was a resplendent apartment, with balconies and boxes, from which the spectators could look down upon the dancers. A fine orchestra furnished the music, and Patty, who loved to dance, found her feet involuntarily keeping time to the harmonious strains.