oon be
sending him to the country, Kitty."

"He's very well," said Kitty. Then she took off her hat and looked at
the invitations Margaret had been writing.

"Heavens, I had forgotten all about them! What an angel is Margaret! I
really can't remember these things. They ought to do themselves by
clock-work. And now Fanchette and this ball are enough to drive one
wild."

She lifted her hands to her face and pressed back the masses of fair
hair that were tumbling round it, with a gesture of weariness.

"Fanchette can make your dress?"

"She says she will, but I couldn't make her understand anything I
wanted. She is off her head! They all are. By-the-way, did you hear of
Madeleine Alcot's. telegram to Worth?"

"No."

Kitty laughed--a laugh musical but malicious. Mrs. Alcot, married in the
same month as herself, had been her companion and rival from the
beginning. They called each other "Kitty" and "Madeleine," and saw each
other frequently; why, Lady Tranmore could never discover, unless on the
principle that it is best to keep your enemy under observation.

"She telegraphed to Worth as soon as her invitation arrived, 'Envoyez
tout de suite costume Venus. Reponse.' The answer came at dinner--she
had a dinner-party--and she read it aloud: 'Remerciments. Il n'y en a
pas.' Isn't it delightful?"

"Very neat," said Lady Tranmore, smiling. "When did you invent that?
You, I hear, are to be Diana?"

Kitty made a gesture of despair.

"Ask Fanchette--it depends on her. There is no one but she in London who
can do it. Oh, by-the-way, what's Mary going to be? I suppose a Madonna
of sorts."

"Not at all," said Lady Tranmore, dryly; "she has chosen a Sir Joshua
costume I found for her."

"A vocation missed," said Kitty, shaking her head. "She ought to have
been a 'Vestal Virgin' at least.... Do you know that you look <i>such</i> a
duck this afternoon!" The speaker put up two small hands and pulled and
patted at the black lace strings of Lady Tranmore's hat, which were tied
under the delicately wrinkled white of her very distinguished chin.

"This hat suits you so--you are such a <i>grande dame</i> in it. Ah! Je
t'adore!"

And Kitty softly took the chin aforesaid into her hands, and dropped a
kiss on Lady Tranmore's cheek, which reddened a little under the sudden
caress.

"Don't be a goose, Kitty." But Elizabeth Tranmore stooped forward all
the same and returned the kiss heartily. "Now tell me what you're going
to w