While Mrs. Allen was planning the social pyrotechnics that should
dazzle the fashionable world, Edith and Zell were working off their
exuberant spirits in the manner described in the last chapter, which
was as natural to their city-bred feet as a wild romp is to a country
girl.

The brilliant notes of the piano and the rustle of their silks had
rendered them oblivious to the fact that the door-bell had rung twice,
and that three gentlemen were peering curiously through the half-open
door. They were evidently frequent and favored visitors, and had
motioned the old colored waiter not to announce them, and he
reluctantly obeyed.

For a moment they feasted their eyes on the scene, as the two girls,
with twining arms and many innovations on the regular step, whirled
through the rooms, and then Zell's quick eye detected them.

Pouncing upon the eldest gentleman of the party, she dragged him from
his ambush, while the others also entered. The youngest approached the
blushing, panting Edith with an almost boyish confidence of manner, as
if assured of a welcome, while the remaining gentleman, who was
verging toward middle age, quietly glided to the piano and gave his
hand to Laura, who greeted him with a cordiality scarcely to be
expected from so stately a young lady.

The laws of affinity and selection were evidently in force here, and
as the reader must surmise, long acquaintance had led to the present
easy and intimate relations.