"So," said Madeline, as she passed Juliet on her way to the cotillon
with a new partner, "you see I tricked you out of the smart young
midshipman, who is the prettiest fellow in the room, and I was
determined not to sit still a single set."

Madeline's volatility attracted the attention of the whole company, and
the delight of finding herself an object of general notice gave her
fresh spirits as she ran to the very top of the country-dance,
oversetting a little boy on her way, afterwards romping down the middle,
and throwing herself into a seat the moment she had got to the bottom.

Soon after, while refreshments were handed round, she took an
opportunity of purposely spilling a glass of lemonade on Cecilia
Selden's pink crape frock, and she threw a piece of orange-peel in
Edward's way that he might slip on it, which he did, and very nearly
fell down.

Juliet, who had recently recovered from a severe cold, brought with her
into the ball-room a very handsome blue silk scarf, which her mother had
lent her, enjoining her to put it on whenever she was not dancing, as a
guard against being suddenly chilled when in a perspiration. Madeline,
happening to look at Juliet, observed the scarf and thought it very
becoming. She suddenly twitched it off Juliet's shoulders and threw it
over her own, saying, "Now, Juliet, you have been beautified with this
scarf long enough. It is my turn to wear it awhile." Poor Juliet knew
not how to object, though her seat (the only one she had been able to
obtain) was directly against a window, from which there was a draught of
air on the back of her neck. The consequence was a renewal of her cold,
and a sore throat which confined her for several days to the house.

The above may serve as a specimen of Madeline's various exploits at the
ball. After Juliet and her brother had got home, Edward stood for half
an hour in the middle of the parlour-floor with his bed-candle in his
hand, while he expostulated with his sister on her strange infatuation
for her new friend; declaring that, with all her volatility and apparent
frankness and good-humour, he had never known a girl more artful,
selfish, and heartless than Madeline Malcolm.

Instead of returning the flowers and the necklace on the following
morning, as she ought to have done, Madeline wore them in the evening to
another ball; and finally when Mrs. Lansdowne sent for the flowers, they
came home in a most deplorable state, soiled, crushed, and