"Because," said Alec, audaciously, "you would look so beautiful stepping out on it, like Julia in 'Guy Mannering.' And we could talk, you know."
"Very well," said Bluebell, who opined it was about time to shut him up. "Suppose we refer it to Miss Cameron. I understand your heart and accomplishments are all made over to her. Perhaps she would assist at the balcony scene!"
Alec bit his lip, and looked rather ashamed. Such a rebuff would not have embarrassed Bertie, nor awakened in him a slumbering conscience, as it did in this young lumberer, who was ridiculous enough to be in earnest in his infidelity.
But Bluebell, knowing she had no quarter to expect from the girls if she returned to them now, was far from wishing to bring him to a sense of his duty before the evening was over, so smiled as engagingly as ever, and continued to accept his attentions, till Janet, fizzing in high dudgeon, announced her intention of going home, which, of course, involved the escort of her recreant young man.
"Wait here a quarter of an hour," whispered Alec to Bluebell, "and I will run back and row you home."
"Gracious, no!" said she, with rather the sensation of a child who has been sent out to spend the afternoon and has misbehaved. "Here is Mrs. Rolleston's servant come for me. Go back with Miss Janet and make it up, for I am never going to speak to you again,"—and she turned away to make her adieux to Mrs. Palmer, a motherly-looking old lady, who had been nodding half asleep on the sofa all the time.
"Such a charming musical evening—such a treat!" said she, brisking up, and quite unaware of what had been passing round her the last two hours.
"Miss Leigh was quite untireable," sneered Janet. "One could not have asked her to exert herself so much."
"Must you really go?" interposed Crickey, fearing now the music was over the harmony might cease also.
Bluebell pleaded a promise to return early.