“No; there wasn’t any secret. Our guardian just did it as a splendid surprise, the dear,” said Lucile, and her eyes 57 traveled to where her guardian and her husband were standing with a group of older people who had come later in the evening to enjoy the fun and to help the young Wescotts do the chaperoning.
“She is all right,” agreed Jessie. “And doesn’t Jack Wescott look splendid? I believe he’s handsomer now than he was in the country.”
“He is fine looking,” Lucile admitted, grudgingly. “Just the same, I’ll never quite forgive him.”
Jack took Lucile into dinner. It required skillful manoeuvering on his part and he never could tell afterward how it happened, but the fact remains that he finally succeeded in extricating her from the mob and started with her toward the dining-room.
“Where’s Jessie? I promised to wait for her,” said Lucile, half turning round. “She’s lost in the crowd, I guess.”
“Probably,” said Jack, perfectly satisfied with this solution. “You needn’t worry about her. Phil will see that she finds her way to the dining-room all right.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” laughed Lucile, and so the matter was settled, to their satisfaction at least.
After dinner the last few dances passed rapidly—far too quickly for the happy young folks. As the last notes of “Home, Sweet Home” died away, Jack turned to his radiant little partner.
“It seems to me they cut that dance mighty short,” said he. “I wish they would give us an encore.”
“Yes, aren’t they stingy?” Lucile agreed, as the frantic applause brought no response from the bored musicians, who were already putting away their music. “It must be pretty hard for them,” she added, as Jack started to pilot her toward the door. “They have to do all the work while we have the fun.”