a little better. Come along, there's a dear." He had pushed the door to; now he shut it.
I walked to the other end of the room, and began folding a blouse. "You'd better give your valet another trial," I said. "I'm not a valet. I'm Lady Turnour's maid."
"She's in luck to get you."
"I'm engaged to wait upon her."
"You are stiff! You do the governor's tie."
"Sir Samuel's very kind to me."
"Well, I'll be kind, too. I'd like nothing better. I'll be a lot kinder than he'd dare to be. I say, I've got a present for you—something rippin', that you'll like. You can wear it at the ball to-night, but you'd better not tell anyone who gave it to you—what? You shall have it for tyin' my necktie. Now, don't you call that 'kind'?"
I stopped folding the blouse, and increased my height by at least an inch. "No," I said, "I call it impertinent, and I shall be obliged if you will leave Lady Turnour's room. That's the only thing you can do for me."
"By Jove!" said Bertie. "What theatre were you at before you took to lady's maidin'?"
To this I deigned no answer.
"Anyhow, you're a rippin' little actress."
Silence.
"And a pretty girl. As pretty as they make 'em."
I invented a new kind of sigh, a cross between a snarl and a moan.
"Tell me, what's the mystery? There is a mystery about you, you know. Not a bit of good tryin' to deceive me.... You might as well own up. I can keep a secret as well as the next one."
A tapping of my foot. A slamming of a wardrobe door, which was able to squeak furiously without loss of dignity.
"What were you before my lady took you on?... Look here, if you don't answer, I shall begin to think the secret's got to do with those." And he pointed to the dressing table, where the jewels still lay. He even put out his hand and took up the bursting sun. (How I sympathized with it for bursting!) "Worth somethin'—what?"
"You can think whatever you like," I flashed at him, "if only you'll go out of this room."
"Pity your chauffeur isn't at hand for you to run to," Bertie half sneered, half laughed, for he was keeping his hateful, teasing good nature. "And by the way, talkin' of him, since you're such a little prude, I'll just warn you in a friendly way to look out for that chap. You don't know his history—what? I'm sure the governor doesn't."
"Sir Samuel knows he can drive, and that he's a gentleman," said I, with meaning emphasis.
"Well, I've warned you," replied Bertie, injured. "You may see which one of us is really your friend, before you're out of this galley. But if you want to be a good and happy little girl, you'd best be nice to me. I shall find out all about you, you know."
That was his exit speech; and the only way in which I could adequately express my opinion of it was to bang the door on his back.
The ball was in a huge vault of a room which had once been a granary. The stone floor had been worn smooth by many feet and several centuries, and the blank gray walls were brightened with drapery of flags, yards of coloured cotton, paper flowers and evergreens, arranged with an effect which none save Latin hands could have given. Dinner above and below stairs was early, and before ten the guests began to assemble in the ballroom. All the servant-world had dined in ball costume, excepting Jack and myself, and it was only at the last minute that the cricket hopped upstairs and wriggled into its neatly reduced lobster shell.
I had visions of my brother lurking gloomily yet observantly in obscure corners, ready at any moment for a sortie in my defence; but when I sneaked, sidled, and slid into the ballroom, making myself as small as possible that I might pass unobserved in spite of my sensational redness, I had a surprise. Near the door stood the chauffeur in evening dress, out-princing and out-duking every prince and duke among the Marquise de Roquemartine's guests. And I, who hadn't even known that he possessed evening clothes, could not have opened my eyes wider if my knight had appeared in full armour.
I had broken the news of the scarlet dress to him, nevertheless I saw it was a shock. To each one, the other was a new person, as we stood and talked together. I said not a word about my scene with Bertie, for there was trouble enough between the two already; but when Jack told me that, if I were asked to dance by anyone objectionable, I must say I was engaged to him, I knew which One loomed largest and ugliest in his mind.
A glance round the big, bright room showed me many strangers. All were servants, however, for the grand people had not yet come down to play their little game of condescension. A band from Clermont-Ferrand was making music, but the ball was to be opened by the marquise and her guests, who were to honour their servants by dancing the first dance with them. Each noble lady was to select a cook, butler, footman, chauffeur, or groom, according to her pleasure; and each noble lord was to lead out the female worm which least displeased his eye.
Hardly had I time to dive deep into the wave of domesticity, when the great moment arrived, and a spray of aristocracy sprinkled the top of that heavy wave, with the dazzling sparkle of its jewels and its beauty. Really it was a pretty sight! I had to admire it; and in watching the play of light and colour I forgot my private worries until I saw Bertie bowing before me.
The marquise had just honoured her own butler. The marquis was offering his arm to the housekeeper; the Duc de Divonne had led out Miss Nelson's bilious maid, appalling in apple-green: Miss Nelson was returning the compliment by giving her hand to his valet: why should not this young gentleman dance with his step-mother-in-law's maid?
There seemed no reason why not, except the maid's disinclination; and sudden side-slip of the brain caused by the glassy impudence in Mr. Stokes's eye so disturbed my equilibrium that I forgot Jack's offer. He did not forget, however—it would hardly have been Jack, if he had—but stepped forward to claim me as I began to stammer some excuse.
"Oh, come, that isn't playin' the game," said Bertie. "We're all dancin' with servants this turn. Go ask a lady, Dane."
"I have asked a lady, and she has promised to dance with me," said Jack. "Miss d'Angely—"
"Oh, that's the lady's name, is it? I'm glad to know," mumbled Bertie, as Jack whisked me away from under his nose.
"By Jove, I oughtn't to have let that out, ought I?" said Jack, remorseful. "The less he knows about you, the better; and as Lady Turnour has no idea of pronunciation, if it hadn't been for my stupidity—"
"Don't call it that," I stopped him, as we began to dance. "It doesn't matter a bit—unless it should occur to the Duchesse de Melun to ask him questions about me. And I'd rather not think about that possibility, or anything else disagreeable, to spoil this heavenly waltz."
"You can dance a little, can't you?" said Jack, in a tone and with a look that made the words better than any compliment any other man had ever paid me on my dancing, though I'd been likened to feathers, and vine-tendrils, and various poetically airy things.
"You aren't so bad yourself, brother," I retorted, in the same tone. "Our steps suit, don't they?"
He muttered something, which sounded like "Just a little better than anything else on earth, that's all"; but of course it couldn't really have been what my ears tried to make my vanity believe.
When we stopped—which we didn't do while there was music to go on with—I was conscious that people were looking at us, and nobody with more interest than the Duchesse de Melun. I glanced hastily away before my eye had quite caught hers; but no female thing needs to give a whole eye to what is going on around her. I knew, although my back was soon turned in her direction, that the Duchesse de Melun was talking to Lady Turnour, and I guessed the subject of the conversation. Thank goodness, my mistress's mind had never compassed more than a misleading "Elise," and thank goodness, also, many of the great folk were preparing to leave us humble ones to ourselves, now that their condescension had been proved in the first dance.