"Lilian is such a dear girl," says Lady Rodney; "she is a very general favorite. I have no doubt her dance will be a great success."
"You are speaking of Lady Chetwoode? Was it her that called last week?" asks Mona, timidly, forgetting grammar in her nervousness.
"Yes; it was her that called last week," returns her amiable mother-in-law, laying an unmistakable stress upon the pronoun.
No one is listening, fortunately, to this gratuitous correction, or hot words might have been the result. Sir Nicholas and Geoffrey are laughing over some old story that has been brought to their recollection by this idle chattering about the Chetwoodes' ball; Jack and Violet are deep in some topic of their own.
"Well, she danced like a fairy, at all events, in spite of her size," says Sir Nicholas, alluding to the person the funny story had been about.
"You dance, of course," says Lady Rodney, turning to Mona, a little ashamed, perhaps, of her late rudeness.
"Oh, yes," says Mona, brightening even under this small touch of friendliness. "I'm very fond of it, too. I can get through all the steps without a mistake."
At this extraordinary speech, Lady Rodney stares in bewilderment.
"Ah! Walzes and polkas, you mean?" she says, in a puzzled tone.
"Eh?" says Mrs. Geoffrey.