Amongst these thousands, Lady Betty Longueville was one of the foremost in the race; and she spent her energies and her talents on "making a sensation," and drawing to her net the most desirable of the idle beaux who danced, and flirted, and led the gay and aimless life of men of fashion.
Graves was presently interrupted by a tap at the door; and, putting down the lace, she went to open it, and found the hairdresser and his assistant waiting on the landing for admission.
The hairdresser made a low bow, and begged ten thousand pardons for being late; but her ladyship must know that the ball to-night in Wiltshire's Rooms was to be the ball of the season, and that he and his man had been dressing heads since early dawn.
"That is no news to me, Perkyns. Am I not one of the chief patronesses of the ball? Have I not been besieged for cards? Tell me something more like news than that."
The assistant having spread out a large array of bottles, and brushes, and flasks on a side-table cleared for the purpose, Mr. Perkyns wasted no more time in excuses; he began operations at once on the lady's head, while Griselda was left to the hands of the assistant.
Lady Betty was far too much engrossed with her own appearance to take much heed of Griselda's; and it was not till something like a discussion was heard between the young lady and the "artist" that she said sharply:
"What are you talking about, Griselda? Pray, make no fuss!—you will look well enough. A little less curl on the right side, Perkyns. Oh! that bow is awry; and I will not have the knot of ribbon so low. I said so last week."
"The top-knots are not worn so high, my lady. Lady Cremorne's is quite two inches lower than the point you indicate."
"Folly to talk of her!—a giant who might be a female Goliath! As if her mode was any rule for mine! I am petite, and need height. Thank goodness, I am not a huge mass of bone and flesh, like my Lady Cremorne!"
"As you please, my lady—as you please. But it is my duty to keep my patronesses up to the high-water mark of fashion."