eep.

His dreams were a medley of the fancy ball and of some pageant scene in
which Iris and Ceres appeared, and there was a rustic dance of maidens
and shepherds. Then a murmur as of thunder ran through the scene,
followed by darkness. He half woke, in a hot distress, but the soft
cheek was still there, his hand still felt the silky curls, and sleep
recaptured him.

XII

When Ashe woke up in earnest he was alone. He sprang up in bed and
looked round the darkened room, ashamed of his long sleep; but there was
no sign of Kitty.

After dressing, he knocked, as usual, at Kitty's door.

"Oh, come in," cried Kitty's lightest voice. "Margaret's here; but if
you don't mind her, she won't mind you."

Ashe entered. Kitty, as was her wont four days out of the seven, was
breakfasting in bed. Margaret French was beside her with a batch of
notes, mostly bills and unanswered invitations, with which she was
trying to make Kitty cope.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ashe," Margaret lifted a smiling face. "I had to be out
on business for my brother all day, so I thought I'd come early and
remind Kitty of some of these tiresome things while there was still a
chance of finding her."

"I don't know why guardian angels excuse themselves," said Ashe, as they
shook hands.

"Oh, dear, what a lot of them there are!" said Kitty, tossing over the
notes with a bored air. "Refuse them all, Margaret; I'm tired to death
of dining out."

"Not all, I think," pleaded Margaret. "Here's that nice woman--you
remember--who wanted to thank Mr. Ashe for what he'd done for her son.
You promised to dine with her."

"Did I?" Kitty wriggled with annoyance. "Well, then, I suppose we must.
What did William do for her? When I ask him to do something for the
nicest boys in the world, he won't lift a finger."

"I gave him some introductions in Berlin," laughed Ashe. "What you
generally want me to do, Kitty, is to stuff the public service with
good-looking idiots. And there I really can't oblige you."

"Every one knows that corruption gets the best men," said Kitty. "Hullo,
what's that?" and she lifted a dinner-card, and looked at it strangely.

"My dear Kitty! when did it come?" exclaimed Margaret French, in dismay.

It was a dinner-card, whereby Lord and Lady Parham requested the honor
of Mr. and Lady Kitty Ashe's company at dinner, on a date somewhere
within the first week of July.

Ashe bent over to look at it.

"I think that came ten days ago," he