Mrs. Martin loathed gipsies.
"None of your sauce," she said in an angry voice. "This is no place for the like of you; get out at once or I'll let Miss Hester Thornton know."
"Oh, nursey, nursey, you'll kill me," exclaimed Annie in a voice choked with laughter. "Do you mean to say you don't know me?"
"My sakes alive, Miss Annie Forest!" exclaimed the old woman. "Who'd have thought you'd have been up to this folly? What are you doing, masquerading like them hateful gipsies? It's bad enough to have wings and clouds about; but gipsies—'tain't respectable; my word, no."
"This gipsy is eminently respectable," said Annie, with a sort of bitter emphasis. "Here, nursey, take my hand, and let me lead you up the ball-room. I have many strange characters to introduce you to. I see plainly that you won't recognise them without my kind assistance. Here, come along, be quick."
"My head is getting moithered, and that's the only word," said nurse Martin. "Dear, dear, what are the young coming to? And sakes alive, what in the world are those?"
The creatures thus apostrophised by the almost frightened nurse Martin, were a troop of fairies and brownies, who now rushed into the ball-room from every direction. The band struck up a merry waltz, and the fairies and brownies began to dance with vigour.
"Its past belief," said Mrs. Martin "and did you make all them wings, Miss Annie?"
"Oh, dear, no," replied Annie; "they were made by the mothers of the fairies—at least, I presume so. Now come into the supper-room and let me get you a comfortable seat."
Mrs. Martin was glad enough to comply. She said the slippery floor of the ball-room, and the uncanny creatures that were all round her, made her feel as if the top of her head would come off. She uttered a little shriek of terror as Jane Macalister, dressed as Minerva, glided fiercely by, and was glad to seat herself in a safe corner behind one of the long supper tables. Annie desired a servant to give her all the refreshment she required, and then ran off to attend to the other guests.