"Thank you, Nellie, for the compliment," he replied, with a slight blush. "I only hope I managed to get through without exhausting your patience. I was so afraid I should prove very stupid, I know so little about the waltz."
"Oh, no, you were far from stupid, and I never enjoyed a dance more; but I am awfully curious to know where you learned so much without attending dancing school."
"'Never enjoyed a dance more,' and with me, too," thought Fred, with a delight which he could not conceal.
"My cousin from Boston, the young lady who spent the summer at my home, taught me all I know about it," he replied.
"And have you never had any other practice?"
"No, that was all."
"Well, she must have been an excellent teacher, and you as good a scholar as you always were at school."
Presently the music ceased, and Dave, Grace, and others came up and congratulated Fred upon his waltzing, and Nellie on her partner.
The party as a whole was a great success, and passed off gayly. It had no feature to distinguish it from others of its kind in country towns. This particular event has been briefly referred to, because, as a consequence of it, something occurred that most cruelly clouded Fred Worthington's young days, and changed the whole course of his life.