lighted Arethusa.

"We'll call This One ours," she said, with an air of proprietorship,
patting the sofa, "and we'll come back here and sit in it every now and
then."

"It would be nice to sit out a dance or two," suggested Mr. Bennet,
tentatively.

He was rather inclined to the opinion it would be quite beyond his
powers to dance the evening straight through.

His suggestion was received with ecstasy by the Romantic Arethusa. For
to sit in this rose-colored recess, side by side on a rose-colored sofa
with the Wonderful Mr. Bennet, with a rose-colored glow all over them,
while the orchestra played dreamy music afar off and the rest of the
world of the Cotillion whirled unconsciously by, appeared to Arethusa
as the most that any girl could ask of fate. There was nothing more
Perfect as a Situation to be offered to anyone, she was quite positive.

The January Cotillion, in these days of trots and one-steps and
hesitations, had of recent seasons become almost a misnomer for this
particular party. There was no cotillion at all about it, save for a
grand march of all the couples in the early part of the evening, and
the fact that favors had remained a feature. But why waste time in the
performance of slow figures when one might be joyfully trotting? Yet
tradition could by no means dispense with the favors; they were most
highly prized. And a feminine person who went through more than three
seasons of Lewisburg society without her share of spoils from the
January Cotillion, was indisputably a Rank Failure.

But Arethusa had no lack of favors from the very beginning of this
affair, thus indicating partners. Her spoils were amply sufficient for
her to show in proof that she was a Social Success, and not a Failure.
Mr. Bennet was not once forced to exert himself, when he felt so very
little like exertion, to find gentlemen who were willing to dance with
her; they flocked around her of their own accord. So instead of making
any effort to join the romp, after he had performed a Duty in the grand
march, he lolled against a pillar by the door and watched it all, which
was much more to his taste this particular evening.

A man detached himself, after awhile, from the group of "stags" in the
center of the room and strolled over to join Mr. Bennet.

"Don't seem to see you dancing much with the fair Arethusa," he said.
"What's the matter, Grid? Feeling anyways seedy?"

"Got a peach of a cold," replied Mr. Bennet.

"Which is