As we disposed ourselves about the friendly table in the cheerful dining room, I could see that Mariposilla's wildest desires were at last realized.

She was trembling slightly, I fancied, as I glanced at her from my opposite position, but in a moment she had controlled herself, and if the ordeal of dinner had at first appeared formidable, she soon forgot her fears in rapturous happiness.

As upon the occasion of the Waltons' luncheon, she watched intelligently my every move, making no mistakes, as she received prettily the flattering attentions of those about her.

As dinner proceeded, the girl's excitement was manifest only in her transcendent coloring. She was dropping naturally, as well as gracefully, into the most difficult requirements of her social novitiate. As I watched her anxiously, I grew tranquil with the assurance that the first step in her education had been successfully taken, exulting, as I reflected upon the complications of modern dining.

One of my pet theories had led me to believe that I could discern correctly the character or native refinement of anyone, provided I could observe, unsuspected, his gastronomical endeavors. I had often discovered inherent resemblances to the brute, or lingering traces of the savage, as I watched covertly the table attainments of a person who, under other ordinary conditions, appeared eminently correct. I felt willing to stake extensive odds that Mariposilla's social success would progress satisfactorily in intelligent ratio to her first unique acquirement.

Our coffee was served in Mrs. Sanderson's sitting-room, where we were joined by a bevy of young people, to whom we were introduced in anticipation of the week's festivities.

Sidney and a young Englishman prepared to smoke, while the girls gathered about Mrs. Sanderson, like moths around a candle.

"Have you heard of the coincidence?" demanded Mrs. Wilbur, a dashing blonde, who thus far in the season had monopolized the attentions of the social leader's son. "Imagine, if you please, a shortage of young women for our cotillion."

"Just think of an extra man in San Gabriel!" shouted the girls in chorus; while Mrs. Wilbur appealed confidentially to Mrs. Sanderson to settle the impending difficulty.

"We were expecting six couples from Pasadena, and now, at the last moment, Ethel Walton sends word that the giddy widow who was to have chaperoned her party is ill, obliging them to bring a maiden lady who doesn't dance," she exclaimed.

"Delightful!" exclaimed the girls. "How jolly to boast a rover, and dear Mr. Eastman at that."

"Won't he be popular?" Mrs. Wilbur added, aside to Mrs. Sanderson, who was at that moment glancing interrogatively at Sidney.

The young man divined his mother's signal, for he came to her side with unusual alacrity.

"The very thing," the lady replied to his earnest undertone. "The arrangement will be quite proper, and I am sure that Mrs. Wilbur will relinquish you for Mr. Eastman. Won't you, my dear?" the lady continued, turning suddenly to Mrs. Wilbur, who was now beginning to suspect that Sidney was quite satisfied to obey the suggestion of his mother.

"It will be so interesting to watch Mariposilla dance in the cotillion," Mrs. Sanderson pursued, bravely. "Dear Mrs. Wilbur will excuse you, for my sake, I am sure, Sid," she added, sweetly, as she turned from that somewhat ruffled young woman to the Spanish child, who was prettily pleading her ignorance of cotillions.

"Never mind, dear," she said, coaxingly, to the timid girl, "you dance divinely, and Sid will take you through the figures beautifully."

I saw that Mrs. Wilbur was chagrined and angry, for a hot flush had dyed her cheeks, when she replied that of course Mr. Sanderson could do as he chose. As far as she was concerned she would be greatly pleased to dance with Mr. Eastman, having formerly refused him her partnership on account of an early engagement with Mr. Sanderson.

"My mother appears to have solved our difficulties. Mr. Eastman certainly surpasses me as a partner, and as there is no robbery in a beneficial exchange, with Mrs. Wilbur's permission, I will dance with Miss Del Valle," the young man responded, indifferently.

A suppressed titter from one of the girls had the unfortunate tendency to increase Mrs. Wilbur's pique.

She answered curtly that certainly Mrs. Sanderson had the first claim upon her son. "Mr. Eastman is a delightful partner, and I am exceptionally favored in the cut," she added, with spirit.

"Why, Mrs. Wilbur," exclaimed a girl with baby-blue eyes and a sympathetic costume, embellished by infant devices; "how dare you perpetrate a pun? You are surely not ignorant of the punishment which fits such a crime?"

"While you, my dear, have yet to learn of penalties arranged for young women who can not distinguish between a pun and a simile," Mrs. Wilbur replied.

Mrs. Sanderson, perceiving that the air was becoming tinctured with personalities, declared that there were also penalties for being disagreeable.

"Come," she said, "let us resist the desire to quarrel. I am sure that Mrs. Wilbur and Sidney are both satisfied, they have simply been misunderstood; and under the circumstances it becomes a polite duty to change the subject."

As the lady finished her tactful and decisive rejoinder, she took from the table a package which had just arrived by express from New York.

"A box of chocolate creams for the one who guesses my Christmas gift," she said, graciously, holding above the throng a long, narrow package, that was certainly not suggestive of any particular thing.

"Each person shall have three guesses, which Mrs. Wilbur will kindly record."

"Go, Sid, and fetch some paper," his mother commanded; turning sweetly to Mrs. Wilbur, who was evidently weighing the consequences of refusing to act as secretary.

However, when Mr. Sanderson brought the writing pad and pencil she accepted them with mollified mien.

"Mr. Brooke shall guess first," Mrs. Sanderson said, addressing the diminutive Englishman, who was smoking before the fire.

"What do you say my package contains, Mr. Brooke?" the lady urged; when the young man persisted in a grinning silence.

"Weally, my deah lady, I am deucid poor at a fancy;" he at length divulged.

"Never mind," cried the aggressive baby girl; "say anything! Time is precious."

"As you insist," the man replied, "I fancy the package contains Mr. Sanderson's sweetheart."

"That is but one guess," objected Mrs. Wilbur, "there are two more possibilities in store for you."

"Three sweethearts, as you bother so," the Englishman replied, greatly elated at his wit.

"Very well," said Mrs. Sanderson. "Three sweethearts are surely not an impossibility to a young man; are they, Sid?"

"Certainly not," her son replied, as he lit, with adorable indifference, a fresh cigar.

"Now, my little Butterfly shall guess," Mrs. Sanderson declared, turning to Mariposilla, who was the unconscious center of the admiring throng. All listened eagerly to hear what the beautiful child would say; suffused as she was with charming embarrassment.

"I am sure it is a gift of devotion and great affection," she answered modestly, gazing with touching earnestness into the face of her adored friend.

"How extremely pretty!" approved Mrs. Sanderson.

"Thus far the contents of the package is enchantingly abstract; can not some one, who is matter-of-fact, indulge in a guess which is tangible?"

In accordance with the request, there followed in quick succession a volley of reckless ventures, each outdoing the other in substantial reality.

When the guessing ceased, Mrs. Wilbur remarked the weight of the package, and announced that she believed the box contained shot. "Nothing but lead could weigh so heavily, but of course, as secretary, I am not guessing," she remarked, indifferently.

"Surely, you must guess!" Mrs. Sanderson urged, sweetly; but as Mrs. Wilbur insisted that she preferred to keep out of the game, the lady said no more, but proceeded to undo the mysterious parcel.

A shout of admiration burst from the expectant company when she exposed for view an elegant silver picture shrine, containing three superb postures of a beautiful girl.

"By Jove, I am right!" lisped the Rivulet, gleefully. "Did I not say three sweethearts?"

"Certainly Mr. Brooke has won," several cried at once.

"Don't be so sure," retorted Mrs. Wilbur, in an undertone. "Did I not say the box contained shot? If you doubt the fact, look at the Spanish girl," she added, censoriously, to Sidney, who appeared not to hear.

It was true that Mariposilla had grown strangely pale. She seemed like one smitten by a remorseless blast. Instinctively she vanished from Mrs. Sanderson's side, while her pitiful eyes implored me to take her away.

Fortunately, at this particular time the tallyho arrived from Pasadena, and to my infinite joy the situation was relieved. Mariposilla, forgotten in the excitement, soon regained her composure, and later, when we entered the ballroom, her color was restored and her distress obliterated.

I was glad that Mrs. Wilbur and I had alone witnessed the child's jealousy. The rest of the company had been too busy admiring the pictures to notice Mariposilla's pale countenance; while Mrs. Wilbur's sarcasms had been uttered low, apart from the throng, as she sat by the table on which she had been writing.

I felt that the poor child's secret was safe for this evening, at least; for I believed Mrs. Wilbur too wily to acknowledge her rival at present. The woman of the world still hoped to distance the Spanish child.

I could see that she was determined to drive her to a disadvantage if possible.

The cotillion was not to be enjoyed until a programme of dances had been offered to all the guests of the hotel, some of whom had not been favored with invitations for the cotillion.

This arrangement proved fortunate for Mariposilla. She forgot her first slight embarrassment entirely, as she glided happily among the less exclusive throng, who good-naturedly jostled her as she passed in the dance.

Sidney had assumed entire charge of her. He had arranged her programme with great consideration, interspersing his own name freely between the names of the most desirable men in the room; while he reserved for himself the privilege of escorting her to the refreshment room, preparatory to the cotillion.

The evening from its beginning appeared auspicious for Mariposilla. Between dances the child flitted to my side like a happy bird.

"It is most grand, SeÑora!" she whispered, as Sidney drew her away for a waltz.

During refreshments, I noticed that Mrs. Wilbur was both fascinated and annoyed at the sensation the girl was producing. Where would the matter end? I asked myself.

Even in the midst of Mariposilla's apparent success, I felt my heart sinking with apprehension. "Why," I questioned, "Why did I let her come?"

The dancers were rapidly leaving the supper room, and when I looked for Mariposilla, she, too, had disappeared. Thinking that she had gone below into the ball-room, I followed hastily; but she was not there. Excusing myself to Mrs. Sanderson, upon the plea that I must peep at Marjorie, I ran hastily above, hoping to find my charge in one of the reception rooms. Faithfully I searched the parlors and corridors, and later the verandas, in vain, for a trace of the truants, so successfully escaping me.

There was yet Mrs. Sanderson's sitting-room. I must pass it on the way to Marjorie.

I hastily ascended the stairs, contemplating, as I flew along the hall, my chances of interrupting a tÊte-a-tÊte.

I felt indignant that Sidney Sanderson should abuse so soon my confidence.

I realized that Mariposilla already had been missed by her rival, and the thought that the inexperienced child would doubtless be criticised, and perhaps maligned, was decidedly irritating.

Slackening my pace as I approached the vicinity of Mrs. Sanderson's parlor, I perceived the door ajar. A second more and I comprehended the absurdity of my vigilant endeavors. My conscientious plans and sentimental reservations, thus far, were not proving superior to the wiles of Cupid.

I winced cruelly when I remembered the confident schemes for Mariposilla's gradual translation into the bosom of the conventional world.

In the center of the room, her profile outlined by acute emotion, stood the Spanish girl. Bending beside her, Sidney was evincing an ardency entirely paradoxical, when I considered his indifferent temperament.

Mariposilla held in her hands, which trembled, the silver shrine, containing the pictures of the beautiful girl.

"You love her not?" she repeated in an ecstasy of doubt; her voice gradually rising in joy at the sweet denial she had forced from the lips of her lover.

Her head was still in profile, but the long lashes, that had lifted to disclose her rapture, now dropped like a sable fringe upon her precious secret, while she listened in silent contentment to the deep undertone assurances of the man by her side.

I could endure the restraint no longer. Tapping deceitfully upon the door, I began at once an animated search for my fan, inwardly disgusted with my cowardice, furious over my imbecile failure as a chaperone.