She looked her disapproval of the disorderly room, but when her glance rested on her husband, who proved surprisingly light on his feet for so heavy a man, her eyes filled with interest and she sat down to watch.
When the record stopped, Lucile turned shining eyes on her mother. “Wasn’t that fine, Mother?” while Phil burst out with, “Bravo, Dad! I had no idea you could do it.”
“All due to my very able teacher,” said Mr. Payton, modestly. “Don’t you want to try it, Nell?” he asked. “It’s more fun than you can imagine. I remember that when I first met you there was no better dancer on the floor, dear. Come on and try.”
“I always used to love to dance,” Mrs. Payton admitted, and that admission was enough for Lucile.
“I tell you what we’ll do,” she said. “You take Mother, Phil, and I’ll take Dad. Oh, what a lark!”
It was half an hour before the Paytons could bring themselves down to a consideration of the sober and substantial things of life, and then it took Mrs. Payton to do it. 61
“Lucile,” she cried, stopping in the middle of a dance to gaze upon her daughter, “I don’t believe you’ve had a mouthful of anything to eat since you got up, and it’s after twelve o’clock.”
“Oh, I forgot,” said Lucy, and then added naively, “Now I come to think of it, though, I am hungry.”
“Of course you are. Run along and tell Mary to make you some toast. That will last you till we all have lunch, which will be pretty soon now.”
“I hope so,” said Phil, who was always ready for his three good meals a day. “I begin to feel the ravages of famine,” he groaned.