"You old prodigal! You old man-without-a-country! You pirate!" went on
the voice. "How dared you sneak in in this fashion? Nan, what would you
do with him if you were in my place?" The voice belonged to Nancy
Marsden's brother.
"I have no desire to put myself in your place," said the only girl who
_could_ be Cinderella.
"I wouldn't bother about _his_ slipper, not if he went barefooted all
his life," said I.
And then, and then, and then! What a bombardment! How pleased I was! I
was inordinately happy, and I didn't eat a thing till the salad.
"How could you!" said Nancy.
"But you didn't recognize me,"--with a show of defiance; "and I expected
that you would be the very first."
"Cut off that horrid beard."
"To-morrow morning."
"And never wear it again."
"Never."
"Have you found Cinderella?" Nancy asked presently.
"No; but I haven't given up all hope."
"Let me see it."
With some hesitance I placed the slipper in her hand. She looked at it
sharply.
"Good gracious!"
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Why, this slipper has _never_ been worn at all. It is brand new!" She
was greatly bewildered.
"I know it," I replied; "I brought it myself."
Then how she laughed! And when I asked her to do it again she did, even
more heartily than before.
"You will always be the same,"--passing the slipper back to me.
"No, I want to be just a little different from now on,"--inscrutably.
She gave me an indescribable glance.
"Give the slipper to me."
"To keep?"
"Yes, to keep. Somehow, I rather fancy I should like to try it
on,"--demurely.
So I gave her the slipper.