“Are you quite comfortable? May I leave you now? or shall I wait and take you back again?” asked Dick, who was eager for a fresh convoy.
“No, no; I would rather stay here a little,” returned Mrs. Paine, who was not desirous of another promenade with the hero of the day. “Go and fetch some one else, Dick: I am very well off where I am,” exchanging an amused glance with one of her friends, as Dick, hot and breathless, started off on another voyage of discovery.
Dick’s behavior had been simply perfect all the afternoon in his father’s eyes; but later on, when the band struck up a set of quadrilles, he committed his first solecism in manners: instead of asking Lady Fitzroy to dance with him, he hurried after Nan.
“This is our dance; come along,” he said, taking her unwilling hand; but she held back a moment.
“Are you sure? Is there not some one else you ought to choose?—Lady Fitzroy, for example?” questioned Nan, with admirable forethought.
“Bother Lady Fitzroy!” exclaimed Dick, under his breath; he had had quite enough of that lady. “Why are you holding 34 back, Nan, in this fashion?” a cloud coming over his face. “Haven’t you promised weeks ago to give me the first dance?” And Nan, seeing the cloud on his face, yielded without another word. Dick always managed to have his own way somehow.
“Dick! Dick!” cried his father, in a voice of agony, as they passed him.
“All in good time; coming presently,” returned the scapegrace, cheerfully. “Now, Nan, this is our place. We will have Hamilton and Dulce for our vis-a-vis. What a jolly day; and isn’t this first-rate?” exclaimed Dick, rubbing his hands, and feeling as though he were only just beginning to enjoy himself.
Nan was not quite so easy in her mind.
“Your father does not look very pleased. I am afraid, after all, you ought to have asked Lady Fitzroy,” she said, in a low voice; but Dick turned a deaf ear. He showed her the rose in his buttonhole; and when Nan told him it was withered, and wanted him to take it out, he gave her a reproachful look that made her blush.