SITTING IT OUT
SKIPPY, fatuously unconscious of any overtaking fate, escorted Dolly to
the next Saturday night hop. On Monday Mr. Hickey Hicks would be on his
way to new pastures and life would return to simpler terms. Dolly,
however, was in no amiable frame of mind.
"You said he had a glass eye. You know you did," she said for the tenth
time.
"Now that's just like a woman," thought Skippy, justly offended, and out
loud he said, with some asperity, "_You_ said so. I never did."
"I?"
"Sure, you did! Why you said it was the left one."
"Well, you let me think so anyway."
"How was I to know?" said Skippy, illogically. "Perhaps he has a glass
eye. Have you asked him?"
They reached the club house and as the orchestra was already
industriously at work, Skippy said playfully,
"All's fair in love and war anyhow! S'pose we dance."
"You don't deserve it," said Dolly, hesitating. She glanced around and
as no one else was an immediate prospect, she accorded him her arm.
Skippy began to perceive that the burden of conversation would lie with
him.
The next dance was a waltz and they waited, the one expectantly, the
other in resignation for the usual rush of the stags which invariably
accompanied Miss Dolly's conquering arrival. As she was endowed with a
lively sense of humor, her irritation had quite departed and Skippy was
as blissfully happy in his restoration to favor as the four-footed puppy
when reconciliation with the master has followed chastisement. To keep
fidelity with human nature, it must likewise be recorded that the
practical sense was likewise strong in the young lady, who was fully
aware of the value of a bird in the hand to one about to fly the bush.
Hickey appeared and came directly towards them. Skippy fell back.
"Hello, Skippy, old top," said Hickey, with accented cordiality. He
shook hands with Miss Dolly, who greeted him with the most encouraging
of smiles. He complimented her on the bewitching gown which made her
prettier than ever, wondered where she had been all this time, shook
hands effusively--and passed on. Miss Dolly bit her lip and took hasty
survey of the room. The old reliables were all actively engaged,
spinning about the room with other partners.
"Oh, I adore this tune," she said suddenly. "Come on, let's waltz."
Then, just to show her independence, she suggested that the next dance,
a polka, was a dreadful bore and Skippy, still unsuspicious, bore her
away in great delight to the shadowy intimacies of the veranda. Miss
Dolly was a little quicker in her perceptions. She saw what was up, and
being of high spirit, decided to answer in kind. She returned to the
floor and danced a third time with Skippy, who was too fatuously pleased
with his good fortune to notice the suppressed hilarity in the room.
"Let's sit here," said Dolly, selecting the most public spot. When Happy
Mather and Crocker and Lazelle and the superior Mr. Hicks did arrive,
she would have her revenge. She would refuse flatly. She would dance
with Skippy openly and defiantly the whole evening. The only drawback
was that no one came.
They sat out two dances and then a feeling of panic descended upon them.
They were horribly, glaringly conspicuous. Every eye was on them. Every
one was whispering at their expense. Dolly had never known the sensation
of being a wallflower, and for the first time her natural wit deserted
her. At first she had deployed all the instinctive arts of her
challenged coquetry. She had openly flaunted her affection for Skippy,
smiling into his fascinated eyes, laughing uproariously at the
inanities he had to offer. Then her spirits suddenly evaporated and she
listened with a cold creepy feeling in her back, while Skippy, in
desperation for a topic of conversation, began to explain the
intricacies of Mosquito-Proof Socks, to perfecting which his life
henceforth would be devoted.
"Let's dance."
Skippy, halfway in his exposition of the commercial value of an
invention which would appeal to twice ninety million legs at six pair of
socks a year, flushed and rose heavily. The light had dawned upon him at
last. They were being put in coventry and the diabolical mind that was
thus taking its fiendish revenge could be none other than the man he had
wronged--Hickey Hicks.
From now on it was torture, pure, unadulterated, exquisite torture, such
as only the self-conscious stripling of the first sixteen awkward years
can experience. To save his life he could not think of a thing to say,
while in his arms Dolly grew heavier and heavier. His arm ached, his
feet began to stumble, he bumped into other couples.
After he had sat out the eighth dance in fitful silence, he began to
experience the strangest antipathy for Miss Dolly Travers, who but an
hour before had been the rapturous ending of all his day dreams. Let no
cynic here exclaim, with facile wit, that romance ends thus in the
compulsory quality of marriage. We make no such allusions. We only state
that Skippy, in his inexperience, began morally to disintegrate. The
more he was forced to sit, chained by convention, the object of public
hilarity, the more he wondered at his former infatuation. Dolly disputed
by every male was a figment of the imagination--how different was the
reality! Mimi Lafontaine was a hundred times more desirable and at least
had _something_ to say! The situation was hideous, but how escape? If
only he could get to Hickey and buy him off! But he couldn't get to his
tormentor, that was the trouble! Then suddenly an idea came to him. In
his pocket was the roll of bills that comprised the sinking fund for his
dress suit. Carefully and unnoticed by Dolly, he extracted a two dollar
bill. When next he danced, he danced with the bill openly flaunted
behind the all-unconscious Dolly, openly offering it to whoever would
come to his rescue. Still the banded traitors smirked and remained loyal
to their leader--they, too, had scores to settle!
"Get me a glass of lemonade, won't you, Jack, like a dear?" said Dolly,
who had thought of a possible opening.
Skippy went and took a full five minutes until he had made quite sure
the next dance was under way. To his horror Dolly was where he had left
her--sitting alone.
When the tenth dance had begun, he hesitated no longer. He replaced the
two dollar bill by one of the next denomination, and with the V
carefully exposed, he managed to bump into Hickey and draw his attention
to the price of his liberty. Hickey appeared interested but only half
convinced. Skippy held out another dance and then, groaning inwardly,
increased the bait to ten.
Whereupon Hickey condescended. The signal was given and Skippy, standing
aloof and humble in the shadows of the veranda, perceived through the
window Miss Dolly Travers, as the stags swarmed down, resume her sway as
the queen of the ball.
On Monday Hickey departed in a burst of glory. With him something else
departed--a great romance. Illusions are fragile things and when they
are shattered the pieces are too small to be reassembled. _Sic transit_
Dolly Travers!