THE DANCE
As soon as the girls reached home, they went to their rooms and
substituted kimonas for their street clothes, preparing to rest before
dinner. But though one or two of the number expressed the desire for
a nap, the others would not keep quiet long enough for them to fall
asleep. Ethel was attempting to comb her hair at Marjorie’s dressing
table, and Frances was manicuring her nails; all the other girls were
stretched lazily on the beds of one or the other of the communicating
rooms.
“Isn’t it the grandest thing in the world to belong to ΦΑΒ and go on
parties like this?” observed Frances.
“It is fun to be together,” said Marjorie slowly; “but we could do that
just the same if we didn’t belong to the sorority!”
“Oh, but we wouldn’t be likely to. The other girls at school don’t have
them much. I guess it would be too hard to know where to draw the line,
without hurting some girl’s feelings!”
“And don’t you suppose _we_ ever hurt anybody’s feelings by being
exclusive?” asked Marjorie, bitterly.
“I don’t believe girls like Lily feel hurt; they know they’re out of
it.”
“I wasn’t thinking of Lily,” said Marjorie, as she left the room.
“I wonder if Marjorie’s worrying about Ruth!” remarked Doris, thinking
of the conversation at the breakfast table. “In a way, it does seem too
bad.”
“Well, she’s foolish if she worries over her!” exclaimed Ethel; “for
Ruth never troubles herself about Marjorie. She’s awfully selfish!”
“And yet I wonder whether _we_ wouldn’t feel resentful if we were in
her position,” said Frances. “It’s terribly hard for the girls who
_almost_ make the sorority.”
Marjorie came back with the dress she was to wear that evening, and the
girls hastily changed the subject.
“How lovely!” exclaimed Doris, looking admiringly at the lemon-colored
georgette Marjorie was holding on a hanger.
“Marj, why did you insist that we all wear different-colored dance
dresses?” asked Mae.
Her hostess laughed gaily. “It’s a secret,” she said. “You’ll find out
to-night!”
“But I want to know now!”
“Let’s all get out our dresses, and see if we really did strike
different colors,” suggested Marian.
“I hope they harmonize,” said Frances.
The soft pastel shades of the six dresses did blend beautifully
together. Lavender, green, yellow, pink, blue, and white
had been selected. They were not elaborately made; perhaps Doris’s was
the fanciest; but it was white, and could afford, therefore, to have
more trimming.
“It reminds me of a rainbow wedding,” said Marian. “Did you ever see
one, where each bridesmaid wears a different-colored dress?”
“And the bride wears white!” laughed Marjorie, with a significant look
at Doris.
A knock at the door drew the attention away from Doris, but only for a
moment; for the box which Maggie, Mrs. Wilkinson’s second maid, handed
to Marjorie was directed to her.
“Flowers for the bride!” announced Marjorie solemnly.
Doris opened the box, and found a bunch of violets.
“Who could have sent them?” teased Ethel.
Doris glanced at the card, and hastily slipped it into her suitcase. As
soon as she was dressed she pinned the flowers through her sash, and
followed the others to the dining-room. But to her great relief, Roger
was not present at supper; he had gone home to dress.
Shortly after eight o’clock, the boys all arrived together. Jack
received them and presented them to the girls. After everyone had been
given a program, Marjorie announced her plan for the first dance.
“Since nobody knows anybody else,” she said, “I made a little game
for finding partners for the first dance. The girls, as you see, all
have on different-colored dresses. Now there is a candy pillow hidden
somewhere in this room to match each dress. The boys hunt for them, and
then go to claim their partners.
“Of course,” she continued, “you know that we are very much
disappointed because one girl we had expected didn’t come. So, besides
the six candy pillows, I have hidden a licorice taffy. Whoever finds
the taffy has to be content to eat it instead of dancing the first
dance!”
“Now get to work and find them!”
The boys searched diligently. Roger came across a green pillow, but
seeing that no one was looking, he instantly hid it again in order to
look further for a white one. Then he saw Jack with the white pillow,
and gave up his chances of securing Doris. He returned to the hiding
place of the green one, but found that it had already been captured,
and David Conner was claiming Mae for the dance. In a minute or two he
found the licorice taffy, and hunted Mr. Wilkinson, to spend the time
with him at the victrola.
John Hadley was delighted to claim Marjorie. He had singled her out
as the most interesting girl at the dance. And she certainly did look
attractive in her simple party dress.
“I feel very much honored,” said John, “to have the first dance with
the hostess.”
As they danced, he asked her all sorts of questions about the school,
and the girls, and even the sorority. When she described the methods of
the latter, he wrinkled his brows.
“Doesn’t that cause a good deal of unhappiness?” he asked.
“Perhaps--at first; but I guess the girls who aren’t taken in soon get
over it. Don’t you have fraternities at Episcopal?”
“No; we only have a Boy Scout troop; and all the money, and pull, and
even popularity, in the world can’t get you into that. It’s simply a
question of hard work.”
“And what do you do?” asked the girl eagerly.
John started to tell of some of the troop’s activities, but before he
had gone very far, the dance was over.
“Promise me the intermission and the last waltz?” he asked.
“All right,” agreed Marjorie, “if you’ll excuse me now to look after
things.”
She had Jack announce that the next dance would be a Paul Jones, and
that after that, the boys might fill their programs according to
the girls’ wishes. He also said that during the intermission, when
refreshments were served, he would be the “extra man”--without a
partner--as he was needed to help; so the fellows could go ahead and
get their programs filled.
When everyone was served, Marjorie turned to John and asked more about
the scouts. She was fascinated by the accounts of their activities;
and John--big, handsome John Hadley, the most popular fellow at
Episcopal--was fascinated by this slip of a freshman.
“I tell you,” he suggested; “why don’t you start Girl Scouts at your
school?”
“I’d love to,” said Marjorie, “but I don’t have time now for the
regular things at school because ΦΑΒ keeps me so busy!”
John persuaded Marjorie to give him an extra dance in the second half,
and when she saw how happy her guests seemed to be, she agreed.
Mrs. Wilkinson had set the time limit of the dancing at half-past
eleven; so before twelve o’clock, the boys had all gone, and the girls
were starting up for bed.
“If they’d only let us have callers at Miss Allen’s!” sighed Doris, so
woefully that everybody laughed out loud.
“They do, when you’re a senior, Doris!” said Ethel, “so cheer
up--you’ve only three years to wait, and surely Roger’s love won’t grow
cold in that time!”
Doris smiled and put her violets in water.
“Well, it’s been the loveliest time I’ve ever had!” said Frances; “oh,
Marjorie, I’m so happy!”
“So am I”--“So am I,” cried the others.
“I guess _everybody_ was happy to-night, Marj; it’s been such a perfect
party!” said Doris.
But one person was unhappy that evening; one girl passed the gaily
lighted house and looked in from the outside; one girl thought of the
sorority she had missed making, and the friend she had lost--and in it
all Ruth Henry blamed not herself, but Marjorie.