She had swept up her hair in the new way from her forehead. She wore
white silk stockings and little flat-heeled black slippers, and a
flounced white frock. She was not in the least in fashion, but she was
quaintly childish and altogether lovely.

The big man looked up at her. "You look nice in that dress."

She smiled down at him. "I'm glad you like it, Eric."

When the young belles and beauties of the countryside came in later, Anne
found herself quite eclipsed by their blooming charms. The young men,
knowing her as the school-teacher, were afraid of her brains. They talked
to her stiffly, and left her as soon as possible for the easier society
of girls of their own kind. Peggy sat with Anne on the big settle beside
the fire. The child's hand was hot, and she seemed sleepy.

"My eyes hurt," she said, crossly.

"You ought to be in bed, Peggy; shall I take you?"

"No. There's going to be an oyster stew. Daddy said I might sit up."

Beulah in pink and very important came over to them. "Could you show us
some of the dances, Anne?"

"Oh, Beulah, can't they play games?"

"I think you might help us." Beulah's tone was slightly petulant.

Anne stood up. "There's a march I taught the children. We could begin
with that."

She led the march with Eric. Behind her was the loud laughter of the
brawny young men, the loud laughter of the blooming young women. Their
merriment sounded a different note from that struck by the genial Old
Gentlemen or by the gay group of young folk from New York. What was the
difference? Training? Birth?

Anne felt suddenly much alone. She had not belonged to Evelyn Chesley's
crowd, she did not belong with Beulah's friends. She wondered if she
really belonged anywhere.

Yet as her mind went over and over these things, her little slippered
feet led the march. Eric was not awkward, and he fell easily into the
step.

"How nicely we do it together," he said, and beamed down on her, and
because her heart was really a kind little heart and a womanly one, she
smiled up at him and tried to be as fine and friendly as she would have
wanted her children to be.

After the dance, the young folks played old-fashioned games--"Going to
Jerusalem" and "Post Office." Anne fled to the settle when the last game
was announced. Peggy was moping among the cushions.

"Let me take you up to bed, dearie."

"No, I won't. I want to stay here."

The fun was fast and furious. Anne had a little shivery feeling