"Look here, miss; here is your programme! Why, deary me! you must have had a lot of dancing. It is quite full."
Betty looked at the programme with dazed eyes; then at the camellia. It had lost some of its petals, and these had not fallen on the toilet-cover. Where were they? What was the meaning of this?
"Martha, bring me my hot water, and leave me alone."
Betty was sorely perplexed. There were evidences that her dress had been worn. The pearl necklace was in the case, but not as she had left it—outside. She bathed her head in cold water. She racked her brain. She could not recall the smallest particular of the ball. She perused the programme. A light colour came into her cheek as she recognised the initials "C. F.," those of Captain Charles Fontanel, of whom of late she had seen a good deal. Other characters expressed nothing to her mind.
"How very strange!" she said; "and I was lying on the bed in the dress I had on yesterday evening. I cannot explain it."
Twenty minutes later, Betty went downstairs and entered the breakfast-room. Lady Lacy was there. She went up to her aunt and kissed her.
"I am so sorry that I overslept myself," she said. "I was like one of the Seven Sleepers."
"My dear, I should not have minded if you had not come down till midday. After a first ball you must be tired."
"I meant—last night."
"How, last night?"