It was a space of about fifty feet long and thirty wide, running all
across the house from back to front. Chandeliers of most primitive
construction had been hung from the roof, and so skilfully decked with
green that the rough splinters of wood which formed them were completely
hidden. Flags and garlands ornamented the rough brick walls, and with
plenty of light and flowers, and no small amount of taste and skill, the
volunteer decorators had in fact succeeded in making out of rather
unpromising materials, a very gay and brilliant-looking saloon.

A small space near the door had been railed off, and served as a passage
to the dressing-rooms, from which sounds of voices and laughter came
merrily, though the ball-room itself was at present quite empty.

"Your neighbours are not quite so punctual as you would have me
believe," said Mr. Percy; "there is not even a fiddler visible."

At that moment Mrs. Bellairs put her head out of a dressing-room. "Oh,
William!" she said, "I'm so glad you are come. Have you seen Maurice or
Henry Scott?"

"No indeed. Where are your fiddlers?"

"Just what I want to know. When we came they had not arrived, and Henry
was gone to look for them. Maurice only waited a few minutes, and
finding they did not come, he went too. What shall we do?"

"Wait, I suppose. They are sure to be here immediately. I only hope
they will arrive tolerably sober."