"One thing… would make me dance," she whis pered hoarsely.

"Maman—"

"You make me… cross," she said, speaking with effort. "Go and sleep… on the f loor. And if these Runners should come into my… house, you must pull the… blanket over your head!"

The news that Lady Callista Taillefaire was engaged to be married to Major Sturgeon had created a sense of wonder and awe among the inhabitants of Shelford that equaled the appearance of a comet or some other profound astronomical event. Certainly it had occurred with less warning. But the gentlefolk of Shelford overcame their astonishment in their eager kindness and sent such a number of small gifts, congratulatory cards, and perfumed letters that the pile threatened to overwhelm the porter's table in the hall, and this in spite of the fact that no formal announcement had yet been made.

Callie knew where to lay the blame. Obviously the major had mentioned it to someone—probably Colonel Davenport, in strict confidentiality—and from there the word raced with that mysterious speed and force that only a secret in a small country village could obtain. By the next day after her interview with the major, it was known to Mrs. Adam, Mr. Rankin, Miss Cummins, and Miss Poole. By the second, Reverend Hartman, Mrs. Farr, and Polly Parrot were acquainted with the facts of the matter. By the third day, it was old news to the goats. Callie was only left to wonder if she ought to make a formal announcement to Hubert. She supposed he must know, through the goats, but she wouldn't want to hurt his feelings by being the last to mention it to him.

"Pssst!"

She paused, uncertain if she had heard the whisper, which seemed to emanate from somewhere behind the bales of silk and shawls and cloaks piled high in what passed for the fashion showroom of Miss Poole's mantua-shop. There was no one else in the back room; nothing but fabrics and a faint sour-sweet scent that Callie could not quite place. She had wandered there on the excuse that she was looking over the fabrics, but in truth to escape the frequent congratulations from Miss Poole, which seemed to be unremitting. Callie herself felt rather numb and lacked an appetite, but she could not quite tell if it was from being engaged or expecting momentarily to hear that Monsieur Malempré had been sent to his trial in Bristol.