ll other
sciences," replied her ladyship, laughing, "and find that the omens,
like the readings of the barometer, are capable of two interpretations."

"You must not speak lightly of the science of augury, Lady Mary. Allow
me to give you the complete interpretation of the omen. The Fates have
not only decreed that Lionel Beauchamp shall either be hung or married
within the twelvemonth, but reserved the latter lot for him; and they
indicate further who his future wife shall be. When there is no lady
next him, it's a hanging matter, saith the oracle; where there is, that
lady will be his wife before the year is out. Now, it can hardly point
to Mrs. Evesham, who is on the right, and therefore I conclude it must
indicate Miss Blanche, who is on his left."

"Very ingenious, indeed, Mr. Cottrell; but, dear me! they have begun to
talk about that horrid ball again at the bottom of the table, have they
not?"

"I say, mother," exclaimed Jim Bloxam, "of course we are all going to
this Commonstone ball on Monday?"

"Nonsense! I am surprised at your thinking of such a thing. The idea
of our going to a Commonstone ball on Easter Monday! Just fancy, my
dear Jim, what it would be,--townspeople and excursionists from round
about. No; I don't go in for being exclusive, goodness knows; but the
Commonstone Easter ball is a rather more boisterous business than I can
stand."

"What nonsense!" rejoined the dragoon, a little staggered, all the
same, by his mother's argument. "It will be great fun, and I don't
suppose a bit worse than any other of the Commonstone balls; and we
have always gone to them, you know."

"Yes, but that's a very different thing from an Easter Monday ball. Of
course you and any of the gentlemen of the party can go. You will have
great fun, no doubt."

"But," urged Jim, "we are a large party, and can keep to ourselves, you
know. It is a good room; and here is Blanche, I know, dying for a
galop. Are you not, my sister?"

"No, indeed," said Blanche, responding bravely to her before-dinner
tutoring; "I assure you I don't care about it in the least. I have no
doubt mamma is right, and that the ball will be crowded with all sorts
of disagreeable people."

"You little traitress," said Jim, with a comical grin upon his
countenance, "I did think I could count upon you; but you are as
perfidious as a county elector in these days of the ballot-box."

Poor Blanche coloured and bit her lip. She was consci