“In the first place, Clarice is perfectly familiar with that dance; and since she is a born dancer, she won’t embarrass you by ignorance and awkwardness.”
“She’ll not have a chance to,” muttered the boy.
“Don’t say that,” pleaded Patricia. “Jack, we’ve been good pals for some time now; can’t you do this for me, if we must put it on a purely personal basis? There is a special reason why I very much want to place Clarice before the public in a new role and under different auspices. Your position in the college is so solid, your reputation so—so irreproachable, that what you do or sponsor meets with the complete approval of the Powers-that-Be.”
“Baloney; but I’m beginning, I think, to see through your scheme.”
“And you will do it?” Eagerly the girl leaned forward and waited for his reply.
“I can’t take her by the hand and just drag her onto the stage with me Saturday night,” objected Jack irritably.
“Of course not. Tell Jane you know a girl who is well able to take my place, and ask if you may substitute her. Jane is so busy and worried over the affair that she’ll be delighted, and probably will ask no questions.”
Jack considered the question gravely, while Patricia watched his face hopefully.
“Will you, Jack?” she begged. “Please say you will.”
“All right,” he agreed gruffly. “I’m not at all keen, I must confess, at appearing so publicly with the celebrated Clarice; but if you say so, it must be done. Probably will cause a tempest in a teapot, but—”