lay and
from which projected at all angles countless logs, slabs and timbers
cast up derelict by the storms of years. But at the time he was not
conscious of noticing these things. In the darkness of his room that
night all he remembered was Celia standing bright and fair against the
shadow of ancient twisted cedars.

VI

THE LITTLE GIRL (CONTINUED)

Every Saturday evening the Hotel Ottawa gave a hop in its dining room.
Mrs. Carleton suggested that the Ordes dine with her, and afterward take
in this function. The hop proper began at nine o'clock; but the floor
for an hour before was given over to the children. Mrs. Orde accepted.

Promptly at half-past six, then, they all entered the dining room.
Bobby, living in the town, had never taken a meal there. He saw a
high-ceilinged, large room, filled with small, square and round tables
arranged between numerous, slender, white plaster pillars. At the base
of each pillar were still smaller serving tables each supporting a metal
ice-water pitcher. Two swinging doors at the far end led out. Tall
windows looked into the grounds where the children had been in the habit
of playing.

People were scattered here and there eating. Statuesque ladies dressed
in black, with white aprons, stood about or sailed here and there,
bearing aloft in marvellous equilibrium great flat trays piled high with
steaming white dishes. They swung corners in grand free sweeps, the
trays tilted far sideways to balance centrifugal force; they charged the
swinging doors at full speed, and when Bobby held his breath in
anticipation of the crash, something deft and mysterious happened at the
hem of their black skirts and the doors flew open as though commanded by
a magic shibboleth. They were tall and short, slender and stout, dark
and light, but they had these things in common--they all dressed in
black and white, their hair was lofty and of exaggerated waterfall, and
their expressions never altered from one of lazy-eyed, lofty, scornful
ennui. To Bobby they were easily the leading feature of the meal.

After dinner the party sat on the verandah a while, the elders
conversing; the children feeling rather dressed up. By and by their
other playmates joined them. The lights were lit, and shadows descended
with evening coolness. From within came the sound of a violin tuning.

Immediately all ran to the dining room. The tables had been moved to one
end where they were piled on top of one another;