Ben Mayberry’s cheeks burned, for none of these words escaped him. He would have given a good deal to have been outside alone for a few minutes with Master Rutherford Richmond. But he could not call him to account under the circumstances, and he still sniffed at the bouquet in his hand, and affected to be very much interested in the action of a couple of misses on the opposite side of the room.
“If Miss Jennie permits anything of this kind again,” volunteered Rutherford, “it will cause trouble. A good many will want to know, before they allow their children to come, whether they are liable to meet the telegraph office boy and the great ball player here; if there’s danger they will stay at home.”
“I think the scum of society should be kept in its place,” observed another, scarcely less bitter than young Richmond in his jealousy of the lad who claimed so much of the attention of the little belle of the evening.
This kind of talk was going on when, to Ben’s great relief, Dolly came tripping to him. He added gall to the cup of the envious youths by rising, giving her his arm, and then glancing triumphantly back at them, as he escorted her to the dining room.
They knew the meaning of the glance, and they were fierce enough to assault him had they dared to do so.
The party came to an end before midnight. Ben Mayberry had saluted his friends, and was in the hall preparatory to going home, when someone slyly pulled his arm. Turning, he saw that it was Ned Deering, a little fellow whose father was the leading physician in Damietta. Ned was a great admirer of Ben, and he now seized the occasion to say:
“Look out, Ben, when you get down by the bridge over the creek; they’re going for you.”
“Whom do you mean?”
“That Rutherford Richmond and another fellow mean to hide in Carter’s Alley, and when you come along will pounce down on you. They wanted me to go with ’em, but I begged off without letting ’em know I meant to tell you.”
“Where are they?” asked Ben, glancing furtively about him.