It took many minutes.

The curl must be adjusted, the full skirts pulled out or shaken loose, the rare jewels arranged before she was dismissed with--"Dah, honey chile, now go-long.
Ain't nary one on 'em ain't pizen hongry for ye--any mos' on 'em 'll drown derselves 'fo' mawnin' becos dey can't git ye." She is ready now, Harry beside her, her lace scarf embroidered with pink rosebuds floating from her lovely shoulders, her satin skirt held firmly in both hands that she might step the freer, her dainty silk stockings with the ribbons crossed about her ankles showing below its edge.
But it was the colonel who took possession of her when she reached the floor of the great hall, and not her father nor her lover.
"No, Harry--stand aside, sir.

Out with you! Kate goes in with me! Seymour, please give your arm to Mrs.Rutter." And with the manner of a courtier leading a princess into the presence of her sovereign, the Lord of Moorlands swept our Lady of Kennedy Square into the brilliant drawing-room crowded with guests.
It was a great ball and it was a great ballroom--in spaciousness, color, and appointments.

No one had ever dreamed of its possibilities before, although everybody knew it was the largest in the county.

The gentle hostess, with old Alec as head of the pulling-out-and-moving-off department, had wrought the change.