Rollo did not know what this meant, but he did his best and managed to keep a-going until the music stopped, when they went back to their table.
“I dance very ill,” said Rollo, completely out of breath. “Indeed, I stumble as much as Old Trumpeter, our horse, going over a rough spot in the road.”
Rollo danced several more dances, doing a little better each time. During the last dance which was what is called a fox-trot, he was somewhat surprised to find that Stella’s cheek was pressed close to his. This caused Rollo to blush furiously. He could not help thinking of his mother’s words, “She is not really your cousin”—but “after all,” thought Rollo, “she is nearly so.” Thus the dance was concluded very pleasantly and Rollo was quite disappointed when several other boys came to their table and invited Stella and Anabelle for the next dance and for the one after that. Rupie had disappeared, so that Rollo was left quite alone. The others danced nicely for several dances, until it began to be quite late.
“What has become of Rollo?” said Stella. “Wherever can he be?”
Just then they saw him approaching. With him was a tall man in uniform. It was evident from Rollo’s expression that he was in some sort of trouble.
“What is the matter, Rollo?” cried Stella and Anabelle and Rupie, in one breath.
“Matter enough,” said Rollo, endeavouring to control his voice. “While you were dancing I have been angling in the fountain.”
“But you did not catch anything,” said Stella.
“Did I not?” said Rollo. “Look,” and he held up a string on which hung three bright golden fish. “I caught these three in no time at all, and had I not been interrupted, I should have caught them all, I dare say.”