“Good idea,” said Ruth, indifferently. “But of course she won’t go. Marj doesn’t like you.”
“I’ll offer to take her to the bathing beach, so as to save her strength for the afternoon. Perhaps she’ll bite.”
Ruth shrugged her shoulders; she did not attach much hope to the plan. “If you like,” she remarked. Then, starting up the steps, “Come on in, Harold! If people see us standing here, they might talk.”
“And that,” said the boy, bitterly, “would spoil your chances.”
“Don’t be silly!”
Harold followed Ruth up the steps and they entered the softly lighted dance hall. The music was playing, but there were not many dancing; for in spite of the electric fans and the open windows, the atmosphere was warm and oppressive.
Ruth looked searchingly for her new friends, but saw only two or three casual acquaintances among the Silvertown group. Evidently Griffith Hunter was not there. So she surrendered herself to a dull evening tete-a-tete with Harold, with perhaps a few dances with some of the scouts, and made no attempt to be entertaining. In reality, her partner was relieved when she finally suggested that they go home.
Marjorie, on the contrary, with much less effort on her part, passed a most agreeable evening at home. Lily, who had refused to leave her for any length of time, soon persuaded Dick Roberts to take her back to the house. Frieda and her new friend, Bob Felton, had gone for a canoe ride on the lake; so Marjorie and Lily, with four of the boys, had the porch to themselves.
“I’m going to try to get dad on the phone!” announced Jack. “And then I believe I’ll turn in. Come on with me, Hadley.”
John rose reluctantly, as if he had no desire to leave Marjorie with David Conner. All evening he had been trying in vain to find a chance to ask her to be his partner in the tennis tournament; now he was afraid that David would seize the opportunity his absence afforded to ask the very question.