"Dinner is served, madam."
Frank offered his arm to Mrs. St. Clare: the two young ladies followed. It was a large and very handsome dining-room: the table, with its white cloth, and its glass and silver glittering under the wax-lights, looked almost lost in it. Lydia faced her mother; Frank and Daisy were opposite each other. He looked well in evening dress: worthy of being a prince, thought Daisy.
The conversation turned chiefly on the festivities of the following evening. Mrs. St. Clare was to give a dance in honour of her youngest daughter's birthday. It would not be a large party; the neighbourhood did not afford that; but some guests from a distance were to sleep in the house, and remain for a day or two.
"Will you give me the first dance, Daisy?" Frank seized an opportunity of whispering to her, as they were all returning to the drawing-room together.
Daisy shook her head, and blushed again. Blushed at