No heel-taps!" A good many healths had been drunk in the county during the year, but few of them were more genuinely responded to than this.

And no queen ever bore her honours more delightfully than the little heroine of the evening.
"I suppose we'd better cut into the next room now," suggested Tom, when this function was over.

"There'll be some fireworks by and by; but any one who likes a hop meanwhile can have one.

Jill knows a ripping piece to play." The invitation was cordially responded to, and when, after sundry repetitions of the "ripping" piece, the eldest Miss Marigold offered to play a waltz, and after her Miss Shafto relieved duty with a polka, and after her one of the ardent youths actually condescended to perform a set of quadrilles, in which His Grace the Duke, with Jill as his partner, led off _vis-a-vis_ with the Bishop and the sister of the member for the county, there was no room to doubt the glorious success of Miss Oliphant's party.
Tom meanwhile, joyous at heart, warm in temperature, and excited in mind, was groping on his knees on the damp grass outside the drawing- room window, fixing his two threepenny Roman candles in reversed flower pots, and planting his starlights, crackers, and Catherine-wheels in advantageous positions in the vicinity, casting now and again a delighted glance at the animated scene within, and wondering if he had ever spent a jollier evening anywhere.
It disturbed him to hear a vehicle rattle up the drive, and to argue therefrom that some belated guest had missed the feast.

Never mind; he shouldn't be quite out of it.
"Raffles," called he, as he caught sight of that hardworking functionary through the dining-room window removing the _debris_ of the banquet, "leave a few `goes' out on the table for any chaps who come late, and then go and tell Jill I'm ready, and turn down the gas in the drawing- room." In due time Raffles delivered his momentous message.
"Oh, the fireworks!" cried Miss Jill, clapping her hands, "the fireworks are to begin.