“Would you like to go up and shake hands with Mr. Dobson, father?”
The moment after, she was horrified at herself. Why had she said that? She didn't want to shake hands with a repulsive siren!
But father was answering:
“What? You, too!”
Just what did he mean by that? And by that quizzical sort of smile? She felt her cheeks growing hot, and wanted to look away. But, now, there was nothing to do but carry it through in a casual kind of way.
“Oh,” she said, “I just thought, maybe, it might be interesting to shake hands with such a celebrity.”
“I see,” said father. He was still smiling but, taking hold of her arm, he began to elbow a slow progress toward the platform.
Just before they reached it, Missy felt a sudden panicky flutter in her heart. She shrank back.
“You go first,” she whispered.
So father went first and shook hands with Mr. Dobson. Then he said: