The numbers won't be in rotation. You'll hear one hundred and
fifteen, and the next moment thirty-five, like as not. It's all
according as to how the guests are leaving. Good luck to you, sir,
and don't forget to explain it all thoroughly to Mr. Warburton, sir."

"Don't you worry, William; we'll come out of this with colors
flying."

"Very well, sir. I shall hang around till you are safely off,"--and
William disappeared.

Warburton could occasionally hear the faint strains of music. From
time to time the carriage-caller bawled out a number, and the
carriage would roll up under the porte-cochere. Warburton concluded
that it would be a good plan to hunt up his rig. His search did not
last long. The bay and the gray stood only a little way from the
gate. The box was vacant, and he climbed up and gathered the reins.
He sat there for some time, longing intensely for a cigar, a good
cigar, such as gentlemen smoked.

"Seventeen!" came hoarsely along on the wings of the night. "Number
seventeen, and lively there!"

Warburton's pulse doubled its beat. His number!

"Skt!" The gray and the bay started forward, took the half-circle and
stopped under the porte-cochere. Warburton recollected that a
fashionable groom never turned his head unless spoken to; so he
leveled his gaze at his horses' ears and waited. But from the very
corner of his eye he caught the glimpse of two women, one of whom was