The words were spoken politely, and Mr Armstrong, although he knew that the speaker’s solicitude on behalf of the band was by no means as great as his desire to see the tutor’s back, felt he could hardly refuse.
“Rosalind,” said the Captain, looking significantly at his daughter, “Mr Ratman desires the pleasure of a dance, and will take you into the next room.”
Rosalind tossed her head and flushed.
“Thank you; I am tired,” said she. “I prefer not to dance at present.”
“You are keeping Mr Ratman waiting, my dear.”
The colour died out of the girl’s face as, with a little shiver, she laid the tips of her fingers on her partner’s arm.
“That’s right,” said that genial individual. “Do as you are told. You don’t fancy it; but pa’s word is law, isn’t it?”
She said nothing, but the colour shot back ominously into her cheeks.
“And so you’ve run off and left us,” pursued her partner, who rather enjoyed the situation, and was vain enough to appreciate the distinction of dancing with the belle of the evening. “So sorry. I quite envy the little vicar boys and girls—upon my honour I do. Very unkind of you to go just as I came. Never mind. Not far away, is it? We shall see lots of one another.”
At this moment, just as the band was striking up for a quadrille, Jill came up.