then sleeping mamas, the daughters whirled in the close embrace of
partners who had brought down bottles of champagne from the supper-room,
and put them by the side of their chairs for occasional refreshment
during the dance. The dizzy hours staggered by--"Azalia, you _must_ come
now," had been already said a dozen times, but only as by the scribes.
Finally it was declared with authority. Azalia went--Amelia--Arabella.
The rest followed. There was prolonged cloaking, there were lingering
farewells. A few papas were in the supper-room, sitting among the
_débris_ of game. A few young non-dancing husbands sat beneath gas
unnaturally bright, reading whatever chance book was at hand, and
thinking of the young child at home waiting for mama who was dancing the
"German" below. A few exhausted matrons sat in the robing-room, tired,
sad, wishing Jane would come up; assailed at intervals by a vague
suspicion that it was not quite worth while; wondering how it was they
used to have such good times at balls; yawning, and looking at their
watches; while the regular beat of the music below, with sardonic
sadness, continued. At last Jane came up, had had the most glorious
time, and went down with mamma to the carriage, and so drove home. Even
the last Jane went--the last noisy youth was expelled--and Mr. and Mrs.
Potiphar, having duly performed their biennial social duty, dismissed
the music, ordered the servants to count the spoons, and an hour or two
after daylight went to bed. Enviable Mr. and Mrs. Potiphar!

We are now prepared for the great moral indignation of the friend who
saw us eating our _dinde aux truffes_ in that remarkable supper-room.
We are waiting to hear him say in the most moderate and "gentlemanly"
manner, that it is all very well to select flaws and present them as
specimens, and to learn from him, possibly with indignant publicity,
that the present condition of parties is not what we have intimated. Or,
in his quiet and pointed way, he may smile at our fiery assault upon