idlers in all colours. Everybody except chorus girls had thought fit to
appear at this ball in aid of the admirably charitable Chorus Girls' Aid
Association. And as everybody was also on the walls, the dancers had to
compete with their portraits--a competition in which many of them were
well beaten.

After they had visited the supper-room, where both Sissie and her mother
did wonderful feats of degustation and Mr. Prohack drank all that was
good for him, Sissie ordered her father to dance with her. He refused.
She went off with Ozzie, while her parents sat side by side on gold
chairs like ancestors. Sissie repeated her command, and Mr. Prohack was
about to disobey when Eliza Fiddle dawned upon the assemblage.

The supernatural creature had been rehearsing until 3 a.m., she had been
trying on clothes from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. She had borne the chief
weight of _Smack Your Face_, on her unique shoulders for nearly three
hours and a half. She had changed into an unforgettable black
ball-dress, cut to demonstrate in the clearest fashion that her
shoulders had suffered no harm; and here she was as fresh as Aphrodite
from the foam. She immediately set herself to bear the chief weight of
the ball on those same defenceless shoulders; for she was, in theory at
any rate, the leading organiser of the affair, and according to the
entire press it was "her" ball. As soon as he saw her Mr. Prohack had a
most ridiculous fear lest she should pick him out for a dance, and to
protect himself he said "All right" to his daughter.

A fox-trot announced itself. In his own drawing-room, with the door
locked, Mr. Prohack could and did treat a fox-trot as child's play. But
now he realised that he had utterly forgotten every movement of the
infernal thing. Agony as he stood up and took his daughter's hand! An