Proudly conscious of the eyes fixed upon her, she moved--or rather, it
must be confessed, squeezed--about among her guests. She had put on new
manners with her new clothes, and was full of a rather mincing civility.

"Pray, Mrs. Cobb, may I get you another cup of tea?"--"Just one more
piece of cake, Mr. Alce?"--"Oh, please, Miss Prickett--just a leetle bit
of ham."

Ellen followed her sister about, pulling at her skirt. She was dressed
in white, and her hair was crimped, and tied with pink ribbons. At eight
o'clock she was ordered up to bed and there was a great uproar, before,
striking out in all directions, she was carried upstairs under Joanna's
stalwart arm. The Rye Quartet tactfully started playing to drown her
screams, which continued for some time in the room overhead.

The party did not break up till eleven, having spent five hours standing
squeezed like herrings under the Ansdore beams, eating and drinking and
talking, to the strains of "The Blue Danube" and "See Me Dance the
Polka." Local opinion was a little bewildered by the entertainment--it
had been splendid, no doubt, and high-class to an overwhelming degree,
but it had been distinctly uncomfortable, even tiresome, and a great
many people were upset by eating too much, since the refreshments had
been served untiringly from six to eleven, while others had not had
enough, being nervous of eating their food so far from a table, and
clinging throughout the evening to their first helpings.

To Joanna, however, the evening was an uncriticized success, and she was
inspired to repeat it on a humbler scale for the benefit of her
servants. She knew that at big houses there was often a servants' ball