she could only manage it without being discovered
at Gleninch. Mr. Macallan was one of the strait-laced people who
disapproved of the ball. No lady, he said, could show herself at such
an entertainment without compromising her reputation. What stuff! Well,
Helena, in one of her wildest moments, hit on a way of going to the ball
without discovery which was really as ingenious as a plot in a French
play. She went to the dinner in the carriage from Gleninch, having sent
Phoebe to Edinburgh before her. It was not a grand dinner--a little
friendly gathering: no evening dress. When the time came for going back
to Gleninch, what do you think Helena did? She sent her maid back in the
carriage, instead of herself! Phoebe was dressed in her mistress's cloak
and bonnet and veil. She was instructed to run upstairs the moment she
got to the house, leaving on the hall table a little note of apology
(written by Helena, of course!), pleading fatigue as an excuse for not
saying good-night to her host. The mistress and the maid were about
the same height; and the servants naturally never discovered the
trick. Phoebe got up to her mistress's room safely enough. There, her
instructions were to wait until the house was quiet for the night, and
then to steal up to her own room. While she was waiting, the girl fell
asleep. She only awoke at two in the morning, or later. It didn't much
matter, as she thought. She stole out on tiptoe, and closed the door
behind her. Before she was at the end of the corridor, she fancied she
heard something. She waited until she was safe on the upper story,
and then she looked over the banisters. There was Dexter--so like
him!--hopping about on his hands (did you ever see it? the most
grotesquely horrible exhibition you can imagine!)--there was Dexter,
hopping about, and looking through keyholes, evidently in search of the
person who had left her room at two in the morning; and no doubt taking
Phoebe for her mistress, seeing that she had forgotten to take her
mistress's cloak off her shoulders. The next morning, early, Helena came
back in a hired carriage from Edinburgh, with a hat and mantle borrowed
from her English friends. She left the carriage in the road, and got
into the house by way of the garden--without being discovered, this
time, by Dexter or by anybody. Clever and daring, wasn't it? And, as
I said just now, quite a new version of the 'Domino Noir.' You will
wonder, as I did, how it was that Dexter did