Margery always declared that there seemed to be some power in the
stranger that was more than human, something magical and compulsory,
when he seized her and gently trotted her round. But lingering
emotions may have led her memory to play pranks with the scene, and
her vivid imagination at that youthful age must be taken into account
in believing her. However, there is no doubt that the stranger,
whoever he might be, and whatever his powers, taught her the elements
of modern dancing at a certain interview by moonlight at the top of
her father's garden, as was proved by her possession of knowledge on
the subject that could have been acquired in no other way.

His was of the first rank of commanding figures, she was one of the
most agile of milkmaids, and to casual view it would have seemed all
of a piece with Nature's doings that things should go on thus. But
there was another side to the case; and whether the strange gentleman
were a wild olive tree, or not, it was questionable if the
acquaintance would lead to happiness. 'A fleeting romance and a
possible calamity;' thus it might have been summed up by the
practical.

Margery was in Paradise; and yet she was not at this date distinctly
in love with the stranger. What she felt was something more
mysterious, more of the nature of veneration. As he looked at her
across the stile she spoke timidly, on a subject which had apparently
occupied her long.

'I ought to have a ball-dress, ought I not, sir?'

'Certainly. And you shall have a ball-dress.'