"She is neglecting Romney."
"But is she not having a fine time! I vow it makes my slow, old blood dance to watch her."
"But it is Romney's dance, and he enjoys it not."
"And if the boy wants the moon, this being his birthnight, his mother must get it for him. See, Peggy is throwing a rose at Romney. It hit him squarely in the breast and she is smiling at him."
"Stupid!" said Elizabeth. "Why does he not ask her for the galliard?"
"He has; see how glum the others look. Call you that hospitality, to keep the best for himself?"
"Oh, the others were best occupied in talking with the girls. But no, they must hang about looking at Peggy, as though the sun rose and set over her shoulder."
Yet Elizabeth smiled.
Meanwhile Peggy, having had her fill of admiration, turned gracious and bethought herself of the other damsels. She would fain have persuaded some of her superfluous partners to betake themselves across the hall to where Polly Claiborne was sitting in solitude against the settle; but such curious creatures are men, that they prefer to hover on the frigid rim of the outermost circle of success rather than to bask in the welcoming smiles of the neglected.