"No vacant spot but plenty of crosses. Take up your cross and follow me!" laughs Miss Travenion. Then she explains, "I always reserve a few dances by crosses for friends who come late," and something gets into her eyes which makes Lawrence very ardent and very bold.
So bold that, being borne away to another dance by Ferdie, Erma looks at her card and suddenly whispers, "Why, he has taken up all my crosses," but though implored by a number of gentlemen who come up afterwards to erase some one of the many H. L.'s marked upon her programme, she shakes her head resolutely and says, "No, I stick to my written contracts," much to the disgust of Ellison of the Thirteenth Infantry, and Lamar, the dashing lieutenant, and Jackson of the Bully Boy.
So, a few moments after, Lawrence coming up for his first dance, she takes his arm more happily than she has ever done, to tread a measure; though she has been the belle of many Delmonico balls and has floated about on the arms of the best cotillion leaders of New York and Boston.
A moment after, Harry Lawrence, who has lived his life in camps or on the frontier, puts his arm around this beauty of Manhattan society, and for the first time feels her heart beat against his. Then perhaps something more potent than the strains of the "Thousand and One Nights of Strauss" getting into his head, he dances with all his soul. Not perhaps in so deft a way as Ferdie, who is past master of the art, and glides the graceful Louise through the room in poetic motion, nor in the dashing manner of Lamar, fresh from cadet german and Mess Hall hops, with the California widow, but still with so powerful an arm that his partner feels confidence in him, and perhaps some emotion coming into her heart other than the mere pleasure of the dance; a very bright blush is on her cheek as they stop.
"Your step suits mine very well. You dance very nicely," she murmurs.
"Yes, for a man who has not tripped the light fantastic for years," replies the captain. Then he goes on, "But who couldn't dance with you?"
"Oh, many men, I imagine," laughs the girl. "That gentleman there, for instance," and following her eyes, Lawrence sees Lot Kruger with a very red face, damp from over-exertion, circling the room with a Mormon lady, the speed of a locomotive in his limbs and the vigor of a buffalo of the plains in his feet, bringing dismay and confusion to surrounding flounces and feminine trains wherever he goes.
Then his face grows dark.
"Don't speak of him!" he replies gloomily. "Let me throw off business for one night and be happy."
Which he does, dancing with Erma so often that Ollie becomes very sulky, and Mrs. Livingston feels it necessary to play the chaperon, which she does very deftly, mentioning to her charge that people are talking about her dancing continually with one gentleman.