elected to dance a jig together, they would bear about the same proportion to each other, that Mr. Vasher does to me.
"Stop!" I cry, when we have taken one round and a half, "it is no good."
So he stops, laughing, and takes me to a seat.
"Long and short," he says, "and decidedly much too long!"
"I told you how it would be," I say, ruefully; "you see, I am only a little above your elbow! If one could only roll one's self out!"
"Supposing you grew up like that?" he says, glancing almost imperceptibly at a maypole of a girl who is standing near, and who measures five feet ten in her stockings.
"One can always avenge one's injuries when one is that size; and, after all, must it not be nice to be able to snub people?" I say, laughing.
"That is a pretty little girl," he says, looking at Kate Lishaw, who has paused for a moment in her dancing near us.
"She is a duck," I say quickly; "do ask her to dance."
In a moment I have fetched her, and they go off together, he looking with real admiration at her fresh, bright young face. I leave my place, and go to the top of the room; hard by Miss Tyburn is speaking to Mrs. Shrubb, and as her voice is raised in rivalry with the fiddle, I cannot avoid hearing what she says.
"Remarkably lovely; but you will be able to judge for yourself, she is coming to-night with her aunt, Lady Flytton. I was calling there yesterday, and happened to mention Mr. Vasher's name; she said she knew him very well, and seemed to like the idea of seeing him again, so I asked her to come."
"Miss Fleming is coming! I wonder what Paul will say?"
The music ceases in a crescendo of shrieks that night well make Weber, whose waltz it is, stir in his coffin. The room is scarcely clear again when the door opens, and a little withered, bent old
