ley consequently in the blues. "Where have you
been? We quite fancied you had taken a lesson out of poor dear Maudie's
book and retired to your couch. Do you stay on at Herst?" She glances
up anxiously from her painting as she speaks.

"Yes. Grandpapa has asked me to put off my departure for a while. So I
shall. I have just written to John to say so, and to ask him if I may
accept this second invitation."

"Do you think it likely he will refuse?" Marcia asks, unpleasantly.

"He may. But when I represent to him how terribly his obduracy will
distress you all, should he insist on my return, I feel sure he will
relent," retorts Molly, nonchalantly.

"Now that Mr. Amherst has induced us all to stay, don't you think he
might do something to vary the entertainment?" says Cecil, in a faintly
injured tone. "Shooting is all very well, of course, for those who like
it; and so is tennis; and so are early hours; but _toujours
perdrix_. I confess I hate my bed until the small hours are upon me.
Now, if he would only give a ball, for instance! Do you think he would,
Marcia, if he was asked?"

"How can I say?"

"Would _you_ ask him, dear?"

"Well, I don't think I would," replies Marcia, with a rather forced
laugh; "for this reason, that it would not be of the slightest use. I
might as well ask him for the moon. If there is one thing he distinctly
abhors, it is a ball."

"But he might go to bed early, if he wished," persists Cecil; "none of
us would interfere or find fault with that arrangement. We would try
and spare him, dear old thing. I don't see why our enjoyment should put
him out in the least, if he would only be reasonable. I declare I have
a great mind to ask him myself."

"Do," says Molly, eagerly, who is struck with admiration at the entire
idea, having never yet been to a really large ball.

"I would rather somebody else tried it first," confesses Cecil, with a
frank laugh. "A hundred times I have made up my mind to ask a favor of
him, but when I found myself face to face with him, and he fixed me
with his eagle eye, I quailed. Molly, you are a new importation; try
your luck."

"Well, I don't mind if I do," says Molly, valiantly. "He can't say
worse than 'No.' And here he is, coming slowly along under the balcony.
Shall I seize the present opportunity and storm the citadel out of
hand? I am sure if I wait I shall be like Bob Acres and find my courage
oozing out through my fingers."

"Then don't," says Cecil.