I immediately ran into a young miss who, judging from her short dresses,
was a guest on sufferance, not having "come out" yet.
"Are you Cinderella?" I asked, with all the gravity I could assume.
"Thank you, sir, but mama will not permit me," her cheeks growing
furiously red.
I passed on, willing to wager that the little girl had understood me to
ask her to dance with me.
How I searched among the young faces; many I saw that I knew, but my
confounded beard (which I determined to cut the very next morning) hid
me as completely as the fabled invisible cloak. I wondered where Jim
was--Nancy's brother. I had seen him in Europe, and I knew if he were
anywhere around there would be one to clap me on the back and bid me
welcome home. This prodigal business isn't what it's cracked up to
be.... Somehow I felt that within a few days I should be making love
again to Nancy; and I may truthfully add that I dreaded the ordeal while
I courted it.
What if she refused me in the end? I cast out at once this horrific
thought as unworthy a man of my address.
Under the stairway there was a cozy corner. Upon the cushions I saw a
dark-haired girl in red. Now, when they haven't a dash of red in their
hair I like it in their dress. She was pretty, besides; so I stopped.
"Pardon me, but won't you tell me if you are Cinderella?"--producing the
slipper.
"I am,"--with an amused smile.
"Then there _is_ a Cinderella, after all?" I cried joyfully. "Where are
the pumpkins?" glancing about.
"I believe that several of them have gone hunting for the slipper."
I was delighted. Three witty women all in one night, and two of them
charming. It was more than a man had any right to expect.
"You have really and truly lost a slipper?"
"Really and truly; only I am _not_ the Cinderella you are looking for."
From under her skirt there came into view (immediately to disappear) a
small scarlet slipper.