And I sit tongue-tied and hungry--for, thank God, I have always had a large appetite--dumb as the butler and footman--dumb as the racing-cups on the sideboard--dumber than Vick, who, being a privileged person, is standing--very tall--on her hind-legs, and pawing Sir Roger's coat-sleeve, with a small, impatient whine.
"Why, Nancy, child!" says father, helping himself to sweetbread, and smiling, "what made you in such a hurry to get away this morning out of the park ?" (Why can't he always speak in that voice?
always smile ?--even his nose looks a different shape.) "Near--luncheon-time," reply I, indistinctly, with my head bent so low that my nose nearly touches the little square of bare neck that my muslin frock leaves exposed.
"Not a bit of it--half an hour off .-- Why, Roger, I am afraid you had not been making yourself agreeable! eh, Nancy ?" "No," say I, mumbling, "that is--yes--quite so." "I was _very_ agreeable, as it happened--rather more brilliant than usual, if possible, was not I?
And, to clear my character, and prove that you thought so, you will take me out for another walk, some day, will not you ?" At the sound of his voice so evidently addressing me, I look up--look at him.
"Yes! with pleasure! when you like!" I answer heartily, and I neither mumble nor stutter, nor do I feel any disposition to drop my eyes.

I _like_ to look at him.

For the rest of dinner I am absolutely mute, I make only one other remark, and that is a request to one of the footmen to give me some water.

The evening passes.

It is but a short one--at least, as regards the company of the gentlemen, for they sit late; father's port, I am told, not being to be lightly left for any female frippery.