The affair was to begin early. Indeed, the girls heard the fiddles tuning up before dinner was ended.
“Oh! hear that fiddle. Doesn’t it make your feet fairly itch?” cried Nettie. Nettie, like most Southern girls, loved dancing.
There were some Virginia reels and some square dances, and all, old and young, joined in these. The reels were a general romp, it was true; but the fun and frolic were of the most harmless character.
The master of ceremonies called out the changes in a resonant voice and all—old and young—danced the square dance with hearty enjoyment. The girls from the North had never seen quite such a party as this; but they enjoyed it hugely. They were not allowed to be without partners for any dance; and the boys introduced to Ruth and Helen were nice and polite and—most of them—danced well.
“Learning to dance seems to be more common among Southern boys than up North,” Helen said. “Even Tom says he hates dancing. And it’s sometimes hard to get good partners at the school dances at Briarwood.”
“I think we have our boys down here better trained,” said Nettie, smiling.
The girls heard, as the time passed, several people expressing their wonder that certain guests from the mainland had not arrived. The dancing floor, which occupied more than half the lower floor of the hotel, was by no means crowded, although every white person on the island was in attendance—either dancing or looking on.
At the back, the gallery was crowded with blacks, their shining faces thrust in at the windows to watch the white folk. In fact, the whole population of Holloway Island was at the hotel.
The last few guests who had arrived from the cottages came under umbrellas as it had begun to rain again. When the fiddles stopped they could hear the drumming of the rain on the porch roofs.
“I’m glad we aren’t obliged to go home to-night,” said Nettie, with a little shiver, as she stood with her friends near a porch window during an intermission. “Hear that rain pouring down!”