"There'll be a great jam here to-night," said one. "Everybody will turn out, and I want to look as pretty as possible."
Kathie had begun to have some rather troublesome thoughts on the subject of dress. The larger girls at school talked considerably of the fashions. She realized her own position much better than she had a year ago, and knew that a certain style was expected of her. She hated to be considered mean or shabby, or, worst of all, deficient in taste; yet how much of it was right? Need it occupy all one's time and one's desires?
She felt very strongly inclined to make herself "gorgeous" to-night, as Rob would have phrased it; yet the only ornament she indulged in was a little cluster of flowers at her throat.
A jam it was, sure enough. Everybody had to look half a dozen ways at once. The hum of the laughing and talking almost drowned the music. By nine o'clock some of the tables began to wear a rather forlorn aspect, and two or three "shut up shop," having been entirely sold out.
Miss Weston's luck appeared less brilliant than that of many others.
"I wish you could take some one there who would buy ever so many things," Kathie said to Uncle Robert; "I am afraid she is feeling a good deal discouraged."
He smiled at the thoughtfulness, but made no immediate reply. Only Kathie noticed his standing there a considerable length of time.
When he came back to her he said, softly, "Kathie, will you not come and keep her table for a little while? I want to take her to the supper-room for some refreshments."
Kathie gave him a rather beseeching look.
"I'll be sure and not let her spend more than fifteen minutes. After that we will have a gay promenade."