“I saw the dance, sir, from a safe distance,” I replied.
“I'll warrant!” said he, laughing, while Dolly shot me a wayward glance from under her long lashes. “I'll warrant your eyes were fast on her from beginning to end. Come, sir, confess!”
His big frame shook with the fun of it, for none in the colony could be jollier than he on holiday occasions: and the group of ladies and gentlemen beside him caught the infection, so that I was sore put to it.
“Will your Excellency confess likewise?” I demanded.
“So I will, Richard, and make patent to all the world that she hath the remains of that shuttlecock, my heart.”
Up gets his Excellency (for so we still called him) and makes Dolly a low reverence, kissing the tips of her white fingers. My lady drops a mock curtsey in return.
“Your Excellency can do no less than sue for a dance,” drawled Dr. Courtenay.
“And no more, I fear, sir, not being so nimble as I once was. I resign in your favour, doctor,” said Colonel Sharpe.
Dr. Courtenay made his bow, his hat tucked under his arm. But he had much to learn of Miss Manners if he thought that even one who had been governor of the province could command her. The music was just begun again, and I making off in the direction of Patty Swain, when I was brought up as suddenly as by a rope. A curl was upon Dorothy's lips.
“The dance belongs to Richard, doctor,” she said.