As su-u-ure’s th’ grass grows in the field—
and then, as everybody knows, you are supposed to “kiss your sweet,” and “rise upon your feet.” Some couples kissed, but some wouldn’t.
The gulf ’twixt the boy and the girl factions has long since been effectually spanned. Mindful of Mary’s meanness in befooling you into accepting her inhospitable chair, you devote yourself to Lucy. At first Lucy is lukewarm, and with a pout of distaste only languidly pursues you after you have deposited the handkerchief behind her. You obey a command to “bow to the wittiest, kneel to the prettiest, and kiss the one you love the best,” but although this last honor you would bestow upon Lucy, and struggle desperately to salute her, she grants you merely the tip of an ear.
You persevere in your attentions, and by repeatedly twitching her hair-ribbon into disorderly streamers, you arouse her interest in you. You chase her, screaming, up-stairs and down; and in return she, with screaming unabated, chases you down-stairs and up, and chastises you with playful little slaps and pinches.
Other couples are similarly engaged. Yet you all are “good,” as goodness goes, among your generation.
Out of what is rapidly verging upon chaos, the summons to refreshments brings organization once more. The majority of the boys, comprising the ruder spirits and the so-to-speak unattached, gather in a corner, where it is each for himself and pillage your neighbor. The politer boys, which class includes yourself, stimulated to their duty by Mrs. Daner, attend upon the fair ladies.
You watch protectingly over Lucy, gallantly letting her have the largest piece of cake, although you covet it yourself, and essaying to practise other denials such as have been impressed upon your memory by your mother.
You and Lucy converse. Your “Gee! ain’t this bully!” and her ecstatic response, “My! ain’t it, though!” establish between you a delightful understanding. For her entertainment you dexterously insert into your mouth a whole cookie.
“Oh, Johnny! How awful!” she sniggers.
The ice-cream is chocolate and vanilla, and everybody takes both. Hen seems not to be aggrieved by the absence of strawberry. Not being a ladies’ man, he is in the corner with kindred souls, but you can hear him.