the chairs were
arranged in a row along the wall; the floor, newly waxed, shone like
glass. A small upright piano manipulated by an elderly female in
glasses; a tremendous bass viol in charge of a small man, and a violin
played by a large man represented the orchestra.

All the children shouted, and began to slide on the slippery floor.
Bobby joined this game eagerly, and had great fun. But in a moment the
music struck up, the guests of the hotel commenced to drift in and the
romping had to cease.

Gerald offered his arm to Celia, and they swung away in the hopping
waltz of the period. Other children paired off. Bobby was left alone.

He did not know what to do, so he sat down in one of the chairs ranged
along the wall. After a minute or so Mrs. Carleton and the Ordes came
in. Bobby went over to them.

"Don't you dance, Bobby?" asked Mrs. Carleton kindly.

"No, ma'am," replied Bobby in a very small voice.

When the music stopped, the children gathered in a group at the lower
end of the hall. Bobby joined them; but somehow even then he felt out
of it. Celia's cheeks were flushed bright with the exercise and
pleasure. Her spirits were high. She laughed and chatted with Gerald
vivaciously. Poor Bobby she included in the brightness of her mood, but
evidently only because he happened to be in the circle of it. She was
sorry he did not dance; but she loved it, and just now she could think
of nothing else but the enjoyment of it. Bobby could not understand that
there was nothing personal in this. He saw, with a pang, that Gerald
danced supremely well; that Morris romped through the steps with a
cheerful hearty abandon not without its attraction; that Tad Fuller, who
had come in with his mother and his brother, and half a dozen others
whom Bobby knew, all made creditable performers; that even Angus,
red-faced, awkward, perspiring as he was, could yet command the hand,
time and attention of any little girl he might choose to favour. He
himself was useless; and therefore ignored.

At the end of the children's hour he said good night miserably, and
trailed along home at his parents' heels. Ordinarily he liked to be out
after dark. The stars and the velvet shadows and the magic
transformations which the night wrought in the most ordinary and
accustomed things attracted him strongly. But now he was too conscious
of a smarting spirit. Mr. and Mrs. Orde were talking busily about
something. He could not even get a chance to ask