"If he isn't engaged he will be before morning," remarked Kitty, smiling at me.
"Indeed, and to whom, pray?" I inquired.
"How should I know? Indeed, how should you know? Any one of a dozen—first one you see—first one who sees you; because you are tall, and can dance."
"I hardly think I should dance."
"Of course you will dance. If you refuse you will be put in irons and taken out to-morrow and shot. It will do you no good to sit and think, poor boy."
"I have no clothes," I protested.
"Johnson will have your boxes out in time. But you don't want your own clothes. This is bal masque, of course, and you want some sort of disguise, I think you'd look well in one of Matt's uniforms."
"That's so," said Stevenson, "we're about of a size. Good disguise, too, especially since you've never been here. They'll wonder who the new officer is, and where he comes from. I say, Kitty, what an awfully good joke it would be to put him up against two or three of those heartless flirts you call your friends—Ellen, for instance."
"There won't be a button left on the uniform by morning," said Kitty contemplatively. "To-night the Army entertains."
"And conquers," I suggested.