THE BELLE OF THE PARTY
After dinner the girls flocked to their rooms for a last peep into
mirrors and a last adjusting of ribbon or ruffle.
The members of The Adventure Club were all in Dicky Taylor’s room, when
Cora and Dora Crowell darted up from the lower corridor and bouncing
into “The Sign of the Tea Kettle,” they closed the door and looked
around beamingly.
“We’ve found out about it,” Cora began.
“And we thought we’d be the first to spring it. We know you are just
dying of curiosity,” Dora seconded.
“They’ve all come and my, don’t they look handsome, though? Dean Craig
just ushered them into the library.”
“But what we don’t know is what’s in the boxes that they gave to Delia.
She took them right into Mrs. Martin’s office.”
“Girls, you make me dizzy. Begin at the beginning. What have you found
out?” Dicky inquired.
“The way the belle of the party is to be chosen. Instead of voting for
the most popular girl as we did last year, we are to vote for a boy to
lead the grand march and he is to choose the belle.” Dora was much
excited. She was far more interested in having been the first to hear
the new plan than she was in the plan itself.
“That’s a spiffy idea!” It was of course Betsy who had spoken.
“Babs and I’ll vote for Benjy Wilson. I say, girls, I wish you’d all
vote for Benjy, then the belle is sure to be chosen from our crowd.”
“Out with her,” Dicky cried teasingly. “Betsy’s trying to influence the
vote.”
“I’m crazy to know what is in the boxes,” Dora chattered on. “One was
large and round and there were six smaller ones.”
“I’ll bet its candy. I hope I’ll draw the big one.”
“Bets, there’s nothing piggy about you, is there?”
“Hark, footsteps approach.” Dora peeped out of the partly open door.
“It’s Miss King! Sh! Don’t let on I told.”
The instructress of manners and gymnastics appeared, and for once she
was actually smiling. After all, even teachers, at times, were human.
“Young ladies, IF you please, form a line in the upper corridor as
quickly and quietly as you can that you may not be heard by the guests
who have assembled in the library.”
The excited girls took their places so softly that not a rustle could
have been heard. Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes sparkled and
there was not a heart under the pretty white ruffles that was beating
normally.
Mrs. Martin in a gray silk gown stood in the lower corridor and the
girls courtesied as they passed her. She smiled and nodded in return and
in her heart was a warm glow of pride. Mrs. Martin loved her girls, even
the most mischievous of them.
The lads in their dress uniforms were standing about the big library
which had been cleared of furniture and which had crash on the floor.
Miss Torrence and Dean Craig received and introduced, but at first there
was a stiffness and shyness evident that these two were at a loss how to
overcome. “Suppose we ask our Glee Club to sing,” Dean Craig suggested.
This was done. Donald Dearing, with a truly beautiful tenor voice, sang
the solo parts and a group of lads joined in the chorus.
Then Sally MacLean was asked to play on her harp. She had consented to
take part in the program if her harp might be concealed by palms, but
there were a few in the big room who stood in such a position that the
palms could not hide from them the truly beautiful girl who sat at the
golden harp. These were the lads who had just been singing. Donald
Dearing, with his arms crossed, watched the all-unconscious girl as she
played, and never before had Sally played with such sympathetic feeling.
Something in the tenor voice had stirred a responsive chord in her music
loving soul and had inspired her.
When the first waltz was played by two of the boys from Drexel on the
piano and violin, Sally tried to slip away unobserved, but found Donald
waiting for her near the palms. “May I have this dance with you, Miss
MacLean?” he asked. Then, as they joined the others, he said softly, “My
sister, who left us, was learning to play the harp. You like music,
don’t you?”
“Yes,” the girl replied. “I love it. Next year mother is to take me to
Paris that I may study there?”
“Good,” the lad replied, brightly. “Then, perhaps, if I may I shall be
able to call on your mother and you, for my Dad is still stationed over
there and I am to spend my vacations with him. He wants me to get my
training at Drexel, because he did.”
Virginia glanced across the room when the dance was over and the young
people were seated. In her heart there was a glow of pride for she could
not but know her friendship had helped Sally to become the sweetly,
sensible girl that she now was, treating her boy comrade in as frank and
friendly a manner as she would a girl companion.
Somehow it seemed fitting that Donald Dearing should have the most votes
and everyone knew that Sally would be chosen by him as “belle.”
Standing at his side, that flushed and happy girl was asked to choose
three lassies to follow her in the march while Donald chose their
partners.
Then Dora’s curiosity was satisfied concerning the content of the boxes.
A large bouquet of orchids and violets was given to Sally and smaller
ones to the lucky girls who were chosen as her attendants.
How great was the change in Sally was made evident that night when the
guests were gone. “Shall you press the orchids and keep them to remember
Donald Dearing?” Betsy inquired as they were preparing for bed.
“No, indeed. I am going to give them to poor Miss Buell in the morning.
She’s been sick for two days and she hasn’t anything in her room to make
it cheerful,” was Sally’s unexpected reply.
Somehow Betsy couldn’t tease, but she confided to Dicky Taylor that she
felt in her bones that some day Sally would become Mrs. Donald Dearing.