CHAPTER XXI.
HOW EVERYONE GOES TO LADY WARBECK'S DANCE, AND HELPS TO MAKE IT A SUCCESS; AND HOW MANY CURIOUS THINGS ARE SAID AND DONE THERE.
Everyone has come now, and old Lady Warbeck, resplendent in pearls and brocade, has dropped into a chair that some charitable person has placed behind her.
It is indeed close upon midnight, and dancing it at its height.
Flowers are everywhere, and a band from town has been secured.

This latter is quite a flight on the part of Lady Warbeck, who, as a rule, trusts the music to the local geniuses.

Altogether everyone acknowledges it is very well done.

Very well done _indeed_, and a good deal more than one would expect from the Warbecks! Old Sir Thomas is marching round, paying senile compliments to all the prettiest girls; his son Gillam, with a diamond stud that you could see a mile off, is beaming on Mrs.Bethune, who is openly encouraging him.

Indeed, "The Everlasting," as he is called by his friends (it is always one's friends who give one a bad name), is careering round and about Mrs.Bethune with a vigour hardly to be expected of him.