St. Elgiva's might certainly congratulate itself upon the success of its efforts. The fancy costumes produced a sensation. All the Allies were represented, as well as allegorical figures, such as Britannia, Justice, Peace, and Plenty. It was marvellous how much had been accomplished with the very scanty materials that the girls had had to work upon. The ball was soon in full swing; mistresses and prefects joined in the fun, and found themselves being whirled round by Neapolitan contadini or picturesque Japs. The room, decorated with flags and big rosettes of coloured paper, looked delightfully festive. Even Miss Norton, usually the climax of dignity, thawed for the occasion, and accepted Betty's invitation to a fox-trot without expressing any disapproval of the Zouave uniform. Marjorie, after a vigorous half-hour of exercise, paused panting near the platform, and refused further partners.
"I want a rest," she proclaimed. "You wouldn't believe it, but this costume's very hot, and my ear-rings keep smacking me in the face."
"If you not want to dance, Marjorie, you shall play, and I take a turn," suggested the French mistress, vacating the piano stool.
"By all means, mademoiselle. Do go and dance. There's Elsie wanting a partner. I'll enjoy playing for a while. What pieces have you got here? Oh, I know most of them."
Marjorie good-naturedly settled herself to the piano. She was an excellent reader, so could manage even the pieces with which she was not already acquainted. She was playing a two-step, and turning her head to watch the dancers as they whirled by, when suddenly she heard a shout, and Chrissie, who was passing, scrambled on to the platform, dragged her from the piano, threw her on the floor, and sat upon her head. Dazed by the suddenness of her chum's extraordinary conduct, Marjorie was too much amazed even to scream. When Chrissie released her she realized what had happened. She had put the corner of her large Breton cap into the flame of the candle, and it had flared up. Only her friend's prompt action could have saved her from being horribly burnt. As it was, her hair was slightly singed, but her face was unscathed. The girls, thoroughly alarmed, came crowding on to the platform, and Miss Norton, after blowing out the piano candles, examined her carefully to see the extent of the damage.
"More frightened than hurt!" was her verdict. "But another second might have been too late. I must congratulate you, Chrissie, on your presence of mind."
Chrissie flushed crimson. It was not often that Miss Norton congratulated anybody. Praise from her was praise indeed.
"Please go on dancing," begged Marjorie. "I'm all right, only I think I'll sit still and watch. It's made my legs feel shaky. I never thought of the candle and the size of my cap."
"It's spoilt your costume," said Sylvia commiseratingly. "And yours was the best in all the room—everybody's been saying so. I wanted to get a snapshot of you in it to-morrow."
"Take Betty instead. She's the limit in that Zouave get-up. And if you wouldn't mind using an extra film, I'd like one of Chrissie. Chrissie"—Marjorie caught her breath in a little gasp—"has saved my life to-night!"