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my aunt went daily to rearrange the card tray to make sure they were visible.
    My gown was new, and so lovely I didn't mind the tedious hours of fitting necessary. It was of rose-colored silk, lavish with lace and cut daringly low to display my shoulders and a good deal of my bosom. I could hardly wait to wear it.
    Two days before the ball my aunt called me into her room. That morning, contrary to her usual custom, she ordered the curtains to be opened, and as the bleak winter sunshine shone into the room I thought she looked like a frog that had been too long under a stone, with her protuberant eyes and yellow, pouchy face.
    Her expression, as she studied me, was critical.
    'Good Lord, girl, you look like a fish. I thought last evening that you were pale. This will never do. A certain degree of languor is not unbecoming, but with her Majesty getting plumper and pinker every week, pallor is not in fashion. How long has it been since you went out?'
    'Why, only yesterday, Aunt. We called on Mrs. Sherbourne, and left cards with—'
    'Yes, yes, I recall. They say a good brisk canter in the park is good for the complexion, but I have never favored these modern notions about fresh air. In any case, it is too late for such remedies. A little paint will do as well. But, however, it will not hurt you to take more air. Mr. Pomeroy has asked us to go driving this afternoon.'
    'I have a lesson.'
    'The harp can wait.'
    'I detest Mr. Pomeroy,' I grumbled.
    Actually I had nothing against that unfortunate young man except that his face and figure showed the effects of too many sweets. He was inordinately fond of bonbons, and brought us a box whenever he came. The fact that he ate most of them himself did not annoy me; he was so tongue-tied in my presence that he had to do something with his mouth to conceal the fact that he had nothing to say.
    'You had better not detest him,' said my aunt. 'He is an only son, and his father is sure to be knighted one day.'
    'The fact that he has no conversation and no wit and altogether too much figure has no bearing on the case?'
    'None at all. Do you prefer Sir Richard?'
    'Oh, Aunt, he is at least sixty! And I know he pads his calves. Why will he not wear pantaloons, like the other gentlemen?'
    'He had a fine figure in his youth,' said my aunt, with a malicious grin. 'His legs were much admired.'
    'At least he is more interesting than Mr. Fox,' I admitted. 'When he calls he will not sit for fear of spoiling the fit of his trousers, and he does nothing but suck on the head of his cane.'
    'Mr. Fox has four thousand—'
    'Ginger hair and no chin,' I interrupted. 'Why should I care how much money he has? As you tell me so often, I have enough for two.'
    'Well, well,' said my aunt, with unusual tolerance—she had just taken her first cup of chocolate. 'We need not decide just yet. The year has barely begun. I have great hopes for the ball this week. Your gown...'
    The conversation passed on to matters pertaining to the ball. I knew my music lesson was lost for that day; I knew, also, that it caused me a pang quite incommensurate with my love of music.
    The drive was pleasant, after all. I wore my new pelisse trimmed with ermine, and Mr. Pomeroy was moved by it to a flight of poetic fancy that quite amazed both of us. He informed me that I looked like a flower in the snow. The compliment pleased him so much he repeated it every half hour. But however, despite my aunt's disdain for fresh air, the cold bright weather refreshed me. I had not realized how tired I was of stale air and late nights.
    In one of the narrow back streets we passed a dancing bear being led along on a chain by a swarthy man in ragged clothing. Mr. Pomeroy ordered the chaise stopped at once, and commanded the man to make the bear perform. The dark, dirty rascal was all flashing white teeth; he expected, and received, a sizable tip. The bear was a great shabby brown beast, and it was comical to watch it lumber about in a poor imitation of