“I’m awfully sorry, Captain,” she said kindly, “but I’m going with—someone else.”
“Who?” asked the Captain blankly. The “bid” for that party had cost the Captain just a dollar and a half, as he was not a member of the class, and he had made the investment for the sake of going with Hinpoha and no one else. So he repeated in a startled tone, “Who?”
“Oh, someone,” answered Hinpoha tantalizingly, and with that he had to be content. To herself she was saying, “How foolish it would be to promise to go with the Captain and then not be able to accept when—when he asks me.” For word had gone round the school that all the faculty were going to honor the Senior Dance with their presence, and whom else would Professor Knoblock ask but herself?
But of all things to happen just at this time, the very next day Hinpoha came down with the mumps, or rather the mump, for only one side of her throat was affected. The first half she had had in childhood.
“That horrid mump stayed away on purpose before,” she wailed, “and waited all these years to jump out on me just at this time. And my new party dress is too sweet for anything, and my gilt slippers—oh-oh-oh-oh was there ever such a disappointment?” Gladys and Sahwah and Katherine, who had all had theirs “on both sides” and were therefore allowed to call, were consumed with sympathy, and were loud in their efforts to console the stricken mumpee.
“Has he come to see you?” ventured Gladys.
Hinpoha shook her head, which was a somewhat painful process.
“Of course he can’t come,” said Sahwah, “he probably hasn’t had them.”
Katherine’s expression seemed to say that a really brave knight wouldn’t hesitate to expose himself to any danger for the sake of seeing his lady, seeing which Hinpoha croaked hoarsely, “They probably wouldn’t let him come,” the “they” in this case presumably referring to the school authorities.
“I saw him down in Forester’s this noon when I was ordering the flowers for mother’s birthday,” said Gladys, and they all sighed.