"What could I do in Lodi? Gossip with old women and grow old. I know those towns. I had rather live in the country than in one of those flat little towns."
"But I'll go to the city with you if you want me to. I can get a place there. I know two men—"
"No, no! I can't do it. I want to be free. I've got something to do, and,—I don't care for you—"
"Well, go to the ball with me tonight, won't you?" he pleaded.
"Yes, if you never speak about this to me again."
He promised; of course he promised. Standing where he did he would have promised anything.
It was a singular and lovely ball. The people came together simply and quietly, on foot, or on the tinkling mule-car.
There were no ultra-fashionable dresses, and no jewelry. The men came in various cuts of coats, and the girls wore simple white, or blue or mauve dresses, beneath which their lithe untrammeled waists and firm rounded limbs moved with splendid grace.
It was plain all were not practised dancers. Some of the young men danced with hands waggling at the wrist, and the girls did not know all the changes, but laughter was hearty and without stint.