nd
satisfied with her victory, she said--"And now, you girls, you come
and have drinks with me. What will you have, Kitty, what will you
have? give it a name."

Kitty protested but was forced to sit down. The courtesans joined the
comic vocalists, waiting to do their "turns." Lord Muchross and Lord
Snowdown ordered magnums, and soon the hall was almost deserted. A
girl was, however, dancing prettily on the stage, and Mike stood to
watch her. Her hose were black, and in limp pink silk skirts she
kicked her slim legs surprisingly to and fro. After each dance she
ran into the wings, reappearing in a fresh costume, returning at
length in wide sailor's trousers of blue silk, her bosom partially
covered in white cambric. As the band played the first notes of the
hornpipe, she withdrew a few hair-pins, and forthwith an abundant
darkness fell to her dancing knees, almost to her tiny dancing feet,
heavy as a wave, shadowy as sleeping water. As some rich weed that
the warm sea holds and swings, as some fair cloud lingers in radiant
atmosphere, her hair floated, every parted tress an impalpable film
of gold in the crude sunlight of the ray turned upon her; and when
she danced towards the footlights, the bright softness of the threads
clung almost amorously about her white wrists--faint cobwebs hanging
from white flowers were not more faint, fair, and soft; wonderful was
the hair of this dancing girl, suggesting all fabled enchantments,
all visions of delicate perfume and all the poetry of evanescent
colour.

She was followed by the joyous Peggy Praed (sweet minx), the soul and
voice of the small back streets. Screwing up her winsome, comical
face, drawling a word here, accentuating a word there, she evoked, in
an illusive moment, the washing day, the quarrel with the
mother-in-law (who wanted to sleep in the house), tea-time, and the
trip to the sea-side with all its concomitant adventures amid bugs
and landladies. With an accent, with a gesture, she recalled in a
moment a phase of life, creating pictures vivid as they were
transitory, but endowing each with the charm of the best and most
highly finished works of the Dutch masters. Lords, courtesans, and
fellow-artists crowded to listen, and profiting by the opportunity,
Kitty touched Mike on the shoulder with her fan.

"Now we had better go."

"I'm driving to-morrow. Come down to Brighton with us," said Dicky
the driver. "Shall I keep places for you?"

Rising, Kitty laid