We had feared it might prove
dull, plain, dowdy, though wellborn, with only dear Patricia to
enliven it; but it was well-dressed, merry, and had not a thought of
glancing at the windows or pulling down the blinds, bless its simple
heart!
The mother entered first, wearing a grey satin gown and a diamond
crown that quite established her position in the great world. Then
girls, and more girls: a rose-pink girl, a pale green, a lavender,
a yellow, and our Patricia, in a cloud of white with a sparkle of
silver, and a diamond arrow in her lustrous hair.
What an English nosegay they made, to be sure, as they stood in the
back of the room while paterfamilias approached, and calling each in
turn, gave her a lovely bouquet from a huge basket held by the
butler.
Everybody's flowers matched everybody's frock to perfection; those
of the h'orphan nieces were just as beautiful as those of the
daughters, and it is no wonder that the English nosegay descended
upon paterfamilias, bore him into the passage, and if they did not
kiss him soundly, why did he come back all rosy and crumpled,
smoothing his dishevelled hair, and smiling at Lady Brighthelmston?
We speedily named the girls Rose, Mignonette, Violet, and Celandine,
each after the colour of her frock.
"But there are only five, and there ought to be six," whispered
Salemina, as if she expected to be heard across the street.
"One - two - three - four - five, you are right," said Mr. Beresford.
"The plainest of the lot must be staying in Wales with a maiden aunt
who has a lot of money to leave. The old lady isn't so ill that
they can't give the ball, but just ill enough so that she may make
her will wrong if left alone; poor girl, to be plain, and then to
miss such a ball as this, - hello! the first guest! He is on time to
be sure; I hate to be first, don't you?"
The first guest was a strikingly handsome fellow, irreproachably
dressed and unmistakably nervous.
"He is afraid he is too early!"
"He is afraid that if he waits he'll be too late!"
"He doesn't want the driver to stop directly in front of the door."
"He has something beside him on the seat of the hansom."
"The tissue paper has blown off: it is flowers."
"It is a piece! Jove, this IS a rum ball!"
"What IS the thing? No wonder he doesn't drive up to the door and
go in with it!"
"It is a HARP, as sure as I am alive!"
Then electrically from Francesca, "It is Patricia's Irish lover! I
forget his name."
"Rory!"
"Shamus!"
"Michael!"
"Patrick!"
"Terence!"
"Hush!" she exclaimed at this chorus of Hibernian Christian names,
"it is Patricia's undeclared impecunious lover.
