th the thought that the dance was given as
a public affair, so that we were acting within our technical
rights--though I own that, as I looked around upon our crowd, ranged
solemnly along the wall, it struck me that we _were_ a bit spectacular.

She was there, chatting with some other women, at the far end of the hall,
and if she saw me enter the room she did not show any disquietude; from
where I stood, she seemed perfectly at ease, and unconscious of anything
unusual having occurred. Old King I could not see.

A waltz was announced--rather, bellowed--and the boys drifted away from
me. It was evident that they did not intend to become wall flowers. For
myself, it occurred to me that, except my somewhat debatable acquaintance
with Miss King, I did not know a woman in the room. I called up all my
courage and fortitude, and started toward her. I was determined to ask her
to dance, and I got some chilly comfort out of the reflection that she
couldn't do any worse than refuse; still, that would be quite bad enough,
and I will not say that I crossed that room, with three or four hundred
eyes upon me, in any oh-be-joyful frame of mind. I rather suspect that my
face resembled that plebeian and oft-mentioned vegetable, the beet. I was
within ten feet of her, and I was thinking that she couldn't possibly hold
that cool, unconscious look much longer, when a hand feminine was extended
from the row of silent watchers and caught at my sleeve.

"Ellie Carleton, it's never you!" chirped a familiar voice.

I turned, a bit dazed with the unexpected interruption, and saw that it
was Edith Loroman, whom I had last seen in the East the summer before,
when I was gyrating through Newport and all those places, with Barney
MacTague for chaperon, and whom I had known for long. Edith had chosen to
be very friendly always, and I liked her--only, I suspected her of being a
bit too worldly to suit me.

"And why isn't it I? I can't see that my identity is more surprising than
yours," I retorted, pulling myself together. It did certainly give me a
start to see her there, and looking so exactly as she had always looked.
I couldn't think of anything more to say, so, as the music had started,
I asked her if she had any dances saved for me. I couldn't decently leave
her and carry out my original plan, you see.

She laughed at my ignorance, and told me that this was a "frontier" dance,
and there were no programs.

"You just promise one or two dances