She began talking gossip about the Fearnses and the Swetnams, and she
mentioned rumours concerning Henry Mynors (who had scruples against
dancing) and Anna Tellwright, the daughter of that rich old skinflint
Ephraim Tellwright. No mistake; she was on the inside of things in
Bursley society! It was just as if she had removed the front walls of
every house and examined every room at her leisure, with minute
particularity. But of course a teacher of dancing had opportunities....
Denry had to pretend to be nearly as omniscient as she was.

Then she broke off, without warning, and lay back in her chair.

"I wonder if you'd mind going into the barn for me?" she murmured.

She generally referred to her academy as the barn. It had once been a
warehouse.

He jumped up. "Certainly," he said, very eager.

"I think you'll see a small bottle of eau-de-Cologne on the top of the
piano," she said, and shut her eyes.

He hastened away, full of his mission, and feeling himself to be a
terrific cavalier and guardian of weak women. He felt keenly that he
must be equal to the situation. Yes, the small bottle of eau-de-Cologne
was on the top of the piano. He seized it and bore it to her on the
wings of chivalry. He had not been aware that eau-de-Cologne was a
remedy for, or a palliative of, headaches.

She opened her eyes, and with a great effort tried to be bright and
better. But it was a failure. She took the stopper out of the bottle and