“I think you like to dance,” Tracy murmured after they had gone half round the room.
“I do like it,” Dorothea answered; “but I haven’t had much practice, and perhaps I don’t do it very well. You see at home, in England, they think I’m too young to go to dances yet.”
“You’re a very fairy on your toes,” Val assured her.
Dorothea laughed joyously.
“I should like to believe so,” she answered, “but I’m afraid I can’t take your word for it, can I?”
“Oh, Miss Drummond,” Val replied with mock despair. “Could you doubt me?”
“I can hardly be expected to have much faith in what you say after what I heard you telling Mrs. Stewart about the Incas of Peru,” Dorothea replied.
“Faith, I but told her the truth,” he grinned. “They are the oldest family I know of in this hemisphere; and as for your dancing, save one dance I have with Miss Imogene, I’ll be pleased to dance with you all night.”
“That would hardly please Miss Imogene,” Dorothea replied, shaking her head.
“Aye, and there’s something in that,” Tracy agreed. “Is she not a wonder now? On the other side she’d be wearin’ a cap and spectacles and sittin’ by the chimney corner knittin’. But here—faith, she’s the light of every party! Were I a little younger I’d be askin’ her to marry me, this night; but seein’ I’m all of twenty-three I’ve grave fears I’d age too fast for her.”