the contemporaries of the eldest son, from
which issued guardsmen and Foreign-office men, and other
dancing-youth of the most approved description. Then the crowd
collected again round the door--a sadder crowd now to the eye of
anyone who has time to look at it; with sallow, haggard looking
men here and there on the skirts of it, and tawdry women joking
and pushing to the front, through the powdered footmen, and
linkmen in red waistcoats, already clamorous and redolent of gin
and beer, and scarcely kept back by the half-dozen constables of
the A division, told off for the special duty of attending and
keeping order on so important an occasion.

Then comes a rush of carriages, and by eleven o'clock the line
stretches away half round Grosvenor Square, and moves at a
foot's-pace towards the lights, and the music, and the shouting
street. In the middle of the line is the comfortable chariot of
our friend Mr. Porter--the corners occupied by himself and his
wife, while Miss Mary sits well forward between them, her white
muslin dress looped up with sprigs of heather spread delicately
on either side over their knees, and herself in a pleasant tremor
of impatience and excitement.

"How very slow Robert is to-day, mamma! We shall never get to the
house."

"He can not get on faster, my dear. The carriage in front of us
must set down you know."

"But I wish they would be quicker. I wonder whether we shall know
many people? Do you think I shall get partners?"

Not waiting for her mother's reply, she went on to name some of
her acquaintance who she knew would be there, and bewailing the
hard fate which was keeping her out of the first dances. Mary's
excitement and impatience were natural enough. The ball was not
like most balls. It was a great battle in the midst of the
skirmishes of the season, and she felt the greatness of the
occasion.

Mr. and Mrs. Porter had for years past dropped into a quiet sort
of dinner-giving life, in which they saw few but their own
friends and contemporaries. They generally left London before the
season was at its height, and had altogether fallen out of the
ball-giving and party going world. Mary's coming out had changed
their way of life. For her sake they had spent the winter at
Rome, and, now that they were at home again, they were picking up
the threads of old acquaintance, and encountering the
disagreeables of a return into habits long disused and almost
forgotten. The giver of the ball