"Oh, yes! But he never supposed you were going to hang on him that way. And there were girls who had known him long before, just waiting to be asked. You see, as he was my cousin, he was—well, almost like the host, and should have gone around. You're a regular flirt, Laverne Chadsey, and you will never get asked to any party of mine again."
"You didn't ask me this time," said Laverne, with spirit. "It was your mother. And it wasn't altogether your party."
"Well, it was my cousin."
"She is Isabel's cousin also."
"Well, she did not like it, either."
Laverne wanted to say she was sorry. No one had ever quarrelled with her before. But was she really at fault? There came a sudden flash of spirit.
"It was mean in your cousin to ask me to dance so many times when he knew it wasn't quite proper. He was used to parties, I wasn't. I shall never want to go to parties again; I just hate them."
With that Laverne turned away, holding her head very high. She missed in one lesson that afternoon, and asked Miss Bain if she might not stay in and go over it; she knew it then, but she was confused by something else. Her uncle was always so proud of her marks that she did not want to disappoint him.
"Why, yes," returned Miss Bain smilingly. "I wish all little girls were as careful."
She was rather grave at home that afternoon. She told Bruno about it and he gave her a world of sympathy out of large, loving eyes.