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But, of course, there was no time. They were at the drill hall already; there were cabs in front of them and cabs behind. The road was bright on either side with moving fan-like lights, and on the pavement gay couples seemed to float through the air; little satin shoes chased each other like birds.

‘Hold on to me. Leila; you’ll get lost,’ said Laura.

‘Come on, girls, let’s make a dash for it,’ said Laurie.

Leila put two fingers on Laura’s pink velvet cloak, and they were somehow lifted past the big golden lantern, carried along the passage, and pushed into the little room marked ‘Ladies.’ Here the crowd was so great there was hardly space to take off their things; the noise was deafening. Two benches on either side were stacked high with wraps. Two old women in white aprons ran up and down tossing fresh armfuls. And everybody was pressing forward trying to get at the little dressing-table and mirror at the far end.

A great quivering jet of gas lighted the ladies’ room. It couldn’t wait; it was dancing already. When the door opened again and there came a burst of tuning from the drill hall, it leaped almost to the ceiling.

Dark girls, fair girls were patting their hair, tying ribbons again, tucking handkerchiefs down the fronts of their bodices, smoothing marble-white gloves. And because they were all laughing it seemed to Leila that they were all lovely.

‘Aren’t there any invisible hairpins?’ cried a voice. ‘How most extraordinary! I can’t see a single invisible hairpin.’

‘Powder my back, there’s a darling,’ cried some one else.

‘But I must have a needle and cotton. I’ve torn simply miles and miles of the frill,’ wailed a third.

Then, ‘Pass them along, pass them along!’ The straw basket of programmes was tossed from arm to arm. Darling little pink-and-silver programmes, with pink pencils and fluffy tassels. Leila’s fingers shook as she took one out of the basket. She wanted to ask someone, ‘Am I meant to have one too?’ but she had just time to read: ‘Waltz 3. Two, Two in a Canoe. Polka 4. Making the Feathers Fly,’ when Meg cried, ‘Ready, Leila?’ and they pressed their way through the crush in the passage towards the big double doors of the drill hall.

Dancing had not begun yet, but the band had stopped tuning, and the noise was so great it seemed that when it did begin to play it would never be heard. Leila, pressing close to Meg, looking over Meg’s shoulder, felt that even the quivering coloured flags strung across the ceiling were talking. She quite forgot to be shy; she forgot how in tie middle of dressing she had sat down on the bed with one shoe off and one shoe on and begged her mother to ring up her cousins and say she couldn’t go after all. And the rush of longing she had had to be sitting on the veranda of their forsaken up-country home, listening to the baby owls crying ‘More perk;3 in the moonlight, was changed to a rush of joy so sweet that it was hard to bear alone. She clutched her fan, and, gazing at the gleaming, golden floor, the azaleas, the lanterns, the stage at one end with its red carpet and gilt chairs and the band in a corner, she thought breathlessly, ‘How heavenly; how simply heavenly!’

All the girls stood grouped together at one side of the doors, the men at the other, and the chaperones in dark dresses, smiling rather foolishly, walked with little careful steps over the polished floor towards the stage.

‘This is my little country cousin Leila. Be nice to her. Find her partners; she’s under my wing,’ said Meg, going up to one girl after another.

Strange faces stniled at Leila – sweetly, vaguely. Strange voices answered, ‘Of’ course, my dear.’ But Leila felt the girls didn’t really see her. They were looking towards the men. Why didn’t the men begin? What were they waiting for? There they stood, smoothing their gloves, patting their glossy hair and smiling among themselves. Then, quite suddenly, as if’ the;’ had only just made up their minds that that was what they had to do the men came gliding over the parquet. There was a joyful