“Curls! I cannot say. I have the impression of a quantity of hair, not in the best order toward the end of the evening. She seemed to be dancing most of the time, and she dances beautifully.”
“But she surely said something to you. What did you talk about?” demanded Rose, impatiently.
“She told that if she were to dance all the dances for which she was engaged, she wouldn’t get home till morning.”
“You don’t mean to say you asked her to dance?”
“Oh, no! She volunteered the information. I could have waited so long as to have the honour.”
“And, of course, you can’t tell a word about her dress?”
“I beg your pardon,” said Arthur, searching his pocket. “It must be in my other vest. I asked Mrs Gridley what the young lady’s dress was made of, and put it down for your satisfaction. Rosie, I hope I haven’t lost it.”
“Arthur! what nonsense!” said Graeme, laughing. “I am sure Mrs Gridley was laughing in her sleeve at you all the time.”
“She hadn’t any sleeve to laugh in. But when I told her that I was doing it for the benefit of my little sister Rosie, she smiled in her superior way.”
“I think I see her,” said Rosie, indignantly. “But what was her dress, after all? Was it silk or satin?”