m, and to its
music the gay, happy throng were dancing. Estelle was greatly
entertained by the vigour shown. Still more delighted was she when M.
Fargis (the captain of the boat which had picked her up) insisted on
Jack dancing with his daughter, to which the sailor consented. He did
not wish to appear surly or stand-offish. The manly grace with which he
bore off the young lady charmed Estelle, and she scarcely heard the
skipper's question: 'The young lady does not dance?'

Before Mrs. Wright could answer, M. Matou, the Prefet, was bowing in
front of her, his hat pressed with both hands on his chest. His son, he
said--a boy of fifteen whom Estelle knew well by sight--desired to be
presented to the little English lady, to pray her to give him the
pleasure of the dance. M. le Prefet was quite one of the _elite_ of
Tout-Petit society, and Mrs. Wright was fully conscious of the honour
paid to Estelle by this invitation. The boy had often seen her during
her walks with Jack, or when she accompanied Goody to market.

He had watched her from the moment she had appeared on the scene that
evening. His father, noticing his abstraction, rallied him on not
joining his companions, and making merry with the rest in the most
inviting waltz that was ever played. M. le Prefet, on learning his son's
wishes, at once offered to assist him in the accomplishment of his
desire. Alas for Julien Matou's hopes! Mrs. Wright answered him as well
as M. Fargis in the same breath:

'Mademoiselle cannot dance to-night. She is far from strong enough for
such exertion. She has only come to look on, and will be returning home
soon.'

M. le Prefet and his son were a little inclined to resent the refusal,
but Mrs. Wright thanked them for the honour they had done her little
girl, and Estelle smiled so prettily that they were disarmed. Drawing up
a chair in front of them, M. Matou sat down to talk to Mrs. Wright,
while Julien leant against the side of the shed, and, looking down at
Estelle, ventured on some shy remark.

Little did they think, as the elders chatted and laughed, and the
younger were gradually thawed into an animated talk, that a pair of eyes
were riveted on the little girl--at first in amazement, then in settled
purpose. Jack's strange instinct had not been altogether at fault. It is
not on record what the owner of those eyes would have felt impelled to
do if M. le Prefet and his son had not taken up their position close to
the little En