I turned around, and there he was behind my chair, where he had been
standing all the time.
"Come along," he said, just as if it were my fault, although there was a
look of elation about him. "If you don't hurry up, we won't get in the
top set. That's the nicest of all."
I followed him, meekly. I was very glad to find him again, but I felt an
inward conviction that I should never get used to boys.
It was not hard to dance. Somehow it was more fun than it had been at
home with Auntie May. I always remembered to give my right hand first in
the ladies' chain, and when I met my partner I courtesied to him every
time. I did not forget a single thing! The music was very lively, and
everybody was smiling, even the grown-up people at the other end of the
room who danced and romped among themselves. I thought that I should
like to go on forever, back and forth, and in and out in the ladies'
chain. I wished that the music would never stop, but it did, at last,
with a sudden chord, and we were all ready for something else.
It was a game this time, a strange, new game called "Post-office." It
began by a little girl leaving the room, mysteriously, and calling a
little boy out into the hall to receive a letter.
"There's a letter in the post-office for Davie Williams," she cried, in
a shrill, high voice that sounded frightened.
All the other little girls laughed. Davie Williams grew very red in the
face, but he went out for his letter, and closed the door carefully
behind him.
I wondered why he stayed so long, and what they could possibly be doing
behind the door. It was very exciting. Suppose, just suppose, that there
should be a letter for me! More little girls went out, and more little
boys. The girls tossed their heads, and the boys went quickly, as though
to get it over. One boy called out another boy instead of a little girl,
and was laughed at. I did not think that I should like to be laughed at.
Then Theodore Otway went out and I heard my name.
He was waiting for me with his hands in his pockets.
"Hello," he said, in a diffident way.
"Hello," I answered, shyly fingering my hair.
I looked about for the wonderful something which I had come to see.
There was nothing, only the hall and Theodore Otway still with his hands
in his pockets. Strange to say he seemed embarrassed. He fidgeted. He
talked in jerks.
"I saw you in church," he said, suddenly.