elight.

"I've had the measles," Missy went on. "And anyway I feel fine!"
So saying, she set to to make herself eat the last mouthful of the
blackberry cobbler she didn't want.

It was hard to concentrate on her toilette with the fastidious care she
would have liked. Her arms were so heavy she could scarcely lift them
to her head, and her head itself seemed to have jagged weights rolling
inside at her slightest movement. She didn't feel up to experimenting
with the new coiffure d'la Lady Sylvia Southwoode; even the exertion of
putting up her hair the usual way made her uncomfortably conscious of
the blackberry cobbler. She wasn't yet dressed when Mr. Briggs called
for her. Mother came in to help.

"Sure you feel all right?" she enquired solicitously.

"Oh, yes--fine!" said Missy.

She was glad, on the rather long walk to the Bonners', that Mr. Briggs
was so easy to talk to--which meant that Mr. Briggs did most of the
talking. Even at that it was hard to concentrate on his conversation
sufficiently to make the right answers in the occasional lulls.

And things grew harder, much harder, during the first dance. The guests
danced through the big double parlours and out the side door on to the
big, deep porch. It was inspiringly beautiful out there on the porch:
the sweet odour of honeysuckle and wistaria and "mock orange" all
commingled; and the lights shining yellow out of the windows, and
the paler, glistening light of the moon spreading its fairy
whiteness everywhere. It was inspiringly beautiful; and the music was
divine--Charley Kelley's orchestra was playing; and Mr. Briggs was a
wonderful dancer. But Missy couldn't forget the oppressive heat, or the
stabbing weights in her head, or, worse yet, that blackberry cobbler.

As Mr. Briggs was clapping for a second encore, she said tremulously:

"Will you excuse me a minute?--I must run upstairs--I forgot my
handkerchief."

"Let me get it for you," offered Mr. Briggs gallantly.

"No! oh, no!" Her tone was excited and, almost frantically, she turned
and ran into the house and up the stairs.

Up there, in the bedroom which was temporarily the "ladies' cloak-room,
prostrate on the bed, Mrs. Bonner found her later. Missy protested she
was now feeling better, though she thought she'd just lie quiet awhile.
She insisted that Mrs. Bonner make no fuss and go back down to
her guests. Mrs. Bonner, after bringing a damp towel and some
smelling-salts, left her. But present