"Oh, yes, in furniture—and things," said Katie, vaguely. And she took pains not to commit herself further.
He was so good a dancer that she neglected Philip Stormont for him, to the great discontent of that young athlete, who thereupon devoted himself to Annie Borrodaile in a way which it went to Katie's heart to see. The windows stood wide open, the scent of the flowers came in; the roses and the tall white lilies shone in the silvery light. Everything was quaint and unreal to Lewis, to whom it had never happened to dance in the lingering daylight before. The strange evening radiance would have suited his own poetic valse better than the sharp, hard, unvaried music which Mrs. Seton continued to make with so much industry. When the reel was over, he went to the piano to relieve that lady.
"Let me play now. I shall like it; and you must be tired—you ought to be tired," he said.
"Mr. Murray is the most considerate young man I ever saw," said Mrs. Seton, shaking on her bracelets again. "You see he has relieved me whether I would or not. As a matter of fact, I'm never tired so long as they go on; I'm so used to it. But when somebody comes, you know, and really says to you, I would rather—though it is difficult to understand it, with so many nice girls dancing. And so you would not bring Lilias, Miss Margaret? I did hope, I must say, just for to-night."
"You see," said Miss Margaret, solemnly, "she is not out yet."
"Oh, you can't think that matters among friends. Katie is not out, the monkey. But, to be sure, as I tell her always, she is very different. Poor Lilias! don't you think it would be better for her just to see what the world is like a little before she comes out. She will be forming such high-flown ideas. I always say to mine, 'Don't be excited. Oh, no, no, don't be excited. A ball in London will just be very much like a ball at home.'"
"That is true enough in one way," said Miss Margaret. "Her Majesty, I suppose, is just like any other person: She has the same number of fingers and toes: but, when a young girl makes her curtsey to the Queen, I hope that will not be the way she will look upon her sovereign."
"Oh, if you take it like that, nobody will beat me in loyalty," said Mrs. Seton. "It was just as near a thing as possible last summer that Robert would have been sent for to preach at Crathie; and I am sure I would not have known if I was on my head or my heels. It's a thing that will come sooner or later; but there will be all the difference, no doubt, between seeing the Queen dressed up at a drawing-room, and seeing her in her own house, just as you might see a friend."
"The difference will be all in Mr. Seton's advantage—when that comes to pass," said Miss Margaret, with some satire in her voice.
"And do the wives go, too? Dear me, that will be a delightful ploy for you," said Miss Jean, who, for her part, had not the slightest intention of offence.