But Hilda was wrong. A little circle of friends had gathered about Clover and Mildred as soon as they appeared on the hotel piazza, and Mildred saw at once in Jack's quiet withdrawal that he did not intend to ask any favor for himself. She liked this in theory, but it half-vexed her to find herself alertly cognizant of his every movement even while she chatted and laughed with her other friends. She saw him approach Hilda, and wondered if he were asking her to dance; then, when the latter moved away into the hotel with her husband, Mildred talked volubly to Eames in order to prevent his having an opportunity to offer himself for her partner. These dances were informal. There were no printed programmes. She wished to give Jack time to return to their group and claim her before the lieutenant should.
How exasperatingly deliberate his motions seemed to her, as he sauntered along!
"I can easily believe what you say, Mr. Eames," she said glibly. "The papers print a great many of the amusing blunders that are made, and I am sure they are not exaggerated, by my own experience. There were two women standing near me in front of the Manufactures Building the other day, and one said to the other: 'Oh, look at that big statute of Liberty; do you suppose it's solid gold?' 'No!' replied the other scornfully, 'it's holler. If that was solid gold it would be worth ten thousand dollars.' Then this sophisticated one turned to me. 'Can you tell me where the Court of Honor is? Is it in the Administration Building?' I answered that this was the Court of Honor, and I suppose I gestured generally, for she looked down at the Basin and then at me with a pitying smile. 'Oh no,' she said, 'that is the lagoon.'"
Why would Jack stop to look in at the window? How slow he was! "Oh yes, and, Mr. Eames, was there any truth in that story I read about the battle-ship? Somebody says, you know, that although it looks so solid and impressive, an angry man could do it considerable damage with a crowbar, and I read lately about some country people who were visiting it. While they were exploring, the ship's bells rang, and coincidently the whistle of a neighboring tug began to blow. The story said those poor people thought the boat was going to start and rushed for the gang-plank, panic-stricken. One man fell into the water, and a woman broke her ankle. It ought not to be amusing, but it is."
"Ha, ha," responded Eames, "there is a grain of truth in it;" (Jack was drawing near) "the rest is the reporter's imagination. I can tell you what was the foundation of that yarn." (Jack approached and stood near the speaker.) "Won't you dance this with me, Miss Bryant, and I will initiate you into some of the methods of newspaper men as discovered by the officer-of-the-day at Jackson Park."
They moved away, and Helen Eames, who had audaciously escaped a would-be partner in the hope of this very event, fell to Jack's lot.
She was a vivacious, jolly girl, and a man was not obliged to talk much while with her, so Van Tassel yielded to her determination to detain him at her side as long as was feasible.
Mildred, promenading with her partner on the piazza after the dance, passed them sitting near the water where one could see, down the curve of the lake, the fireworks of the White City bursting in starry brilliance. Far out upon Michigan's breast shone a row of steady lights, beside which, as on a liquid boulevard, the illuminated passenger-boats plied up and down.
Van Tassel was playing with his companion's fan, and laughing as though he were well entertained, at the moment Mildred passed by.
The sight did not please her.