"Dearest child!" she exclaimed effusively, "are you not quite tired out?"
The "dearest child" shrugged her white shoulders and laughed.
"Nothing tires me, mother—you know that!" she answered—then with a sudden change from her air of careless indifference to one of coaxing softness, she turned to Helmsley.
"You must be tired!" she said. "Why have you been standing so long at the ballroom door?"
"I have been watching you, Lucy," he replied gently. "It has been a pleasure for me to see you dance. I am too old to dance with you myself, otherwise I should grudge all the young men the privilege."
"I will dance with you, if you like," she said, smiling. "There is one more set of Lancers before supper. Will you be my partner?"
He shook his head.
"Not even to please you, my child!" and taking her hand he patted it kindly. "There is no fool like an old, fool, I know, but I am not quite so foolish as that."
"I see nothing at all foolish in it," pouted Lucy. "You are my host, and it's my coming-of-age party."
Helmsley laughed.