She was standing, but the floor again seemed at a slant.
"Steady," said Cuthbert. "You're as giddy as the giddiest. Don't pretend. Take her off to get cool, Maclean."
"Cool!" Elma's fingers seemed icy. But there was a comforting, light-headed glow in her cheeks which reassured her.
Every one said how well she was looking, and that kept her from wondering whether she was really going to be ill. George Maclean tried to get her to drink tea, but for the first time in her life she found herself possessed of a passion for lemonade.
"You will really think that I am one of the children," she said, "because I am simply devoured with a longing for iced lemonade."
"Well, you shall have iced lemonade, and as much as you want," said George Maclean. "How I could let you fall, I can't think." There was a most ludicrous look of concern on his face.
"I shall grab all my prospective partners for this evening at least," said Elma. "You can't think how treacherous that floor is."
She did not dance nearly so much as she wanted to. George Maclean and Lance and Cuthbert, these three, at least, made her sit out when she wanted to be "skipping."
Isobel looked her up on hearing that she had fallen. Cuthbert said, "She doesn't look well, you know."
"Why, Elma--Elma is never ill," said Isobel. "Look at her colour too!"