They emerged from the ladies’ bower into the stir of the antechamber.  Met halfway by their escort, they proceeded toward the dining-room.  Advance was a little slow; there was some confusion here and even crowding, replete diners blocking the way of those just going in.  Just at the door, a party of five or six managed to come between Carlisle and Canning, who was dutifully looking out for his future mother-in-law; the girl became momentarily separated from her protectors.  Or perhaps it was partly Cally’s own fault, precipitated by the sight of a page standing near, who certainly seemed to have been stationed there by the hand of Providence....

Having stared fascinated at this page for half a second, Carlisle brought him to her side by a nod.  The lad was fifteen and had seen lovely ladies in his time, but raising his eyes to this one, he acknowledged that she was a Queen.

“Call long distance for me, boy....  I’ll write the number.”

The boy produced pad and pencil, and she scribbled rapidly, a smile hovering over the sweet mouth whose slight irregularity charmed the eye beyond flawlessness.

Why, indeed, wait longer, running and sticking one’s head in the sand, when here was the telephone, immediate and conclusive, when she felt now so brave and sure, and could tell mamma and Hugo this very night without a tremor?  All was simple now, and highly adventurous besides.  And then there was Jack Dalhousie to whom even a day or two, now that she stopped to think of it, would probably make a good deal of difference....

Turning again with bright cheeks, Cally encountered strange faces; and then, in a second or two, the familiar ones of her mother and Canning, both looking back for her....

“There you are!” she laughed, coming up with them again.  “What an exciting jam!”

They proceeded into the dining-place and to their table, a somewhat ceremonial progress headed by three spiketails.  Even in that display of beauty, wealth, consequence, and their lifelike imitations, these three, or perhaps we should say these two, drew much attention.  Carlisle was conscious of lorgnettes; once she caught the whisper of the name so soon to be her own.  Late as they were, the room was still crowded:  the well-bred but wandering eye saw no vacant seat anywhere.  There was music in the air, and the clash of cutlery, the vocal hum, and the faint tinkle of glasses.  There were flushing faces and eyes that sparkled like the wine, and of it, many fragrances commingled, of flowers, chefs’ chefs-d’oeuvre, of Pinaud and Roget.  Through all, too, was to be felt the hard inquisitive stare of New York, each man wondering who and whence his neighbor was, speculating under his smile as to which man of them made, on the whole, the best appearance, seemed most plentiful of his money....

Pink-shaded candles stood on the little table; also La France roses of Canning’s purchasing; also glasses, three more of them brought as they took their seats.