In that lull in the dancing I looked about with sudden misgiving; Nichola was not with us. Where was Nichola, that faithful old woman, and why was she not at our party? She had left me in full season to make ready.
“Where is Nichola?” I anxiously demanded of Pelleas, reproaching myself for my neglect.
Pelleas did not immediately answer and when I looked up I fancied that I detected his eyes twinkling. But before I could wonder or inquire came that which it makes my heart beat now to remember. Without the slightest warning there sounded and echoed a violent summons on the great entrance doors. Nothing could have created more consternation than did the innocent fall of that silver knocker at Little Rosemont.
I chanced to be sitting near the door and I think that I must have risen in astonishment. I saw Pelleas whirl in concern, and I was conscious of the instant lull in the animated talk. Then the Scotch butler recovered himself and in full Highland costume, with bare knees, he sprang to his post quite as if this had been at the head of a mountain pass and threw wide the door.
“Upon my word!” I heard exclaiming a fine, magnetic voice, “upon my word, a party. Let us blush and withdraw.”
But they came crowding to the door; and there in motor caps and coats stood a gay company of our friends and the friends of Avis, and of them Madame Sally Chartres and Wilfred; and Lisa and her uncle, Dudley Manners, who were guests near by at Chynmere Hall; and Hobart Eddy, whose was the voice that I had heard. They had motored out from town and from places roundabout us and were come to pay us a visit.
“Sally!” said I feebly. Sally was with Hobart Eddy who adores her and, his critics say, affects her so-picturesque company to add to his so-popular eccentricities. And with them came a cloud of the mighty, a most impressive cloud of witnessing railway presidents and bankers and statesmen and the like; and all spectators at our party.
“Ah, Etarre!” Sally cried blithely, “this is charming. But—we are not invited.”
“No one is invited,” said I faintly, “we all belong here. Ah,” I cried, as the humour of it overcame me, “come in. Do come in. The punch is just served.”
They needed no second bidding. In they all marched in the merriest of humours, not in the least understanding the meaning of that strange assembly but with sufficient of moon magic and the swift motion in their dancing blood to be ready for everything. And while Pelleas led them away to the billiard room to put aside their wraps, I found Hobart Eddy beside me. And somehow, before I knew, I was telling him all about the occasion and at his beseeching actually leading him from one to another and soberly presenting him to Mrs. Woods and the daughter of the Hittites and the cook. Only to see that elegant young leader of cotillons bowing before the head laundress in her competitive toilette was something to remember.