'Oak Hill,' said her guardian. 'Mrs. Seaton's. What is to be done there?'
'A promenade concert—nominally.'
'That sounds something to me like a dancing dinner. What does it mean, my dear?'
'Just what I said, in the first place, sir. If Kitty Fisher and the Powders are there, it may turn into something else.'
'And what does a promenade concert turn into, when it is enchanted?' said Mr. Falkirk.
'A succession of dances—it might.'
'Well, my dear—what should I do in a succession of dances?'
She laughed,—just a little. Laughs were not ready to-night.
'Sit still, sir, and watch me.'
'It strikes me I do enough of that as it is, without going to
Oak Hill. Do you want more than you will have to watch you?'
The word jarred. She was silent a minute. Then earnestly—