A little later, Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield went away, amid showers of confetti, and after that there was an hour of informal dancing.
Patty was besieged with partners asking for a dance, and as there was no programme, she would make no promises, but accepted whoever might ask her first at the beginning of each dance. She liked to dance with Kenneth, for his step suited hers perfectly, and her cousin Bob was also an exceptionally good dancer.
But Patty showed no partiality, and enjoyed all the dances with her usual enthusiasm.
Suddenly she remembered that she had promised Mr. Hepworth a dance, but he had not come to claim it. Wondering, she looked around to see where he might be, and discovered him watching her from across the room.
There was an amused smile on his face, and Patty went to him, and asked him in her direct way, why he didn’t claim his dance.
“You are so surrounded,” he said, “by other and more attractive partners, that I hated to disturb you.”
“Nonsense,” said Patty, without a trace of self-consciousness or embarrassment. “I like you better than lots of these Philadelphia boys. Come on.”
“Thank you for the compliment,” said Mr. Hepworth, as they began to dance, “but you seemed to be finding these Philadelphia boys very agreeable.”
“They’re nice enough,” said Patty, carelessly, “and some of them are good dancers, but not as good as you are, Mr. Hepworth. Do you know you dance like a—like a—will-o’-the-wisp.”
“I never met a will-o’-the-wisp, but I’m sure they must be delightful people, to judge from the enthusiastic tone in which you mention them. Do you never get tired of parties and dancing, Patty?”