I had just got started knitting in the intermission between the first and second acts when the orchestra began to play “Over There,” and Agony got an inspiration. “Let’s all stand up,” she whispered, “and see how many people will bite and stand up, too.”
So, stifling our giggles, we sprang promptly to our feet and stood stiffly at attention. In less than a minute more than half of the audience, not knowing why they should stand up for that piece, but blindly following our lead, gathered up their hats, wraps and programs in their arms and dutifully stood up. Then as soon as they were standing we sat down and laughed at the poor dupes, who sat down in a hurry when they saw us, looking terribly foolish. I haven’t seen anything so funny in a long time.
“Stop laughing,” said Gladys, giving me a poke with her elbow. “You’re shaking the seat so I’m getting seasick.” But I couldn’t stop.
“Look out, Hinpoha, there goes your knitting,” said Migwan. “Catch it, somebody!”
But it was too late. When we stood up I had laid the sock and the ball of yarn on the broad, low rail in front of us, and now the ball had rolled over the edge and dropped down into the audience below, right into the lap of a young man who was sitting on the end seat. He looked up in great surprise and everybody laughed. They just roared! There I stood, leaning over the balcony, hanging on to the sock for dear life and trying to keep it from raveling, and there he stood down below holding onto the ball, and plainly puzzled what to do with it.
“Throw down the sock, silly,” whispered Agony, reaching over and pulling my sleeve. “Do you think he’s going to throw up the ball?”
I dropped the sock and the man caught it in his other hand and stood there laughing, as he started to wind up the yards and yards of yarn between the ball and the sock. When he had it wound up he brought it upstairs to me. I went out into the corridor to get it. Then for the first time I got a good look at the man. He was dressed in uniform and wore an officer’s cap. He was very tall and slim, with black eyes and hair and a small black mustache.
“Here, patriotic little knitting lady,” he said, making a deep bow and handing me my knitting. I looked up into his handsome, smiling face, and little needle points began pricking in my spine. His eyes met mine, he smiled, blushed to the roots of his hair and looked away. All in one instant I knew. I had met my fate. This was my Man, my own. I felt faint and light-headed and all I could see was his black eyes shining like stars. His deep, thrilling voice still rang in my ears. With another low bow he turned to leave me.
“Captain Bannister, at your service,” he said.
I went back to my seat with my head swimming. “Patriotic little knitting lady,” I found myself whispering under my breath. The girls suddenly seemed awfully young and silly as they sat there giggling at me and at each other. My mind was above all such childish things; it was soaring up in the blue realms of true love. I was glad he was tall and thin. I think fat girls should marry thin men, don’t you? And he was dark, too, just the right mate for redheaded me. And he was a Captain in the army! How the other girls would envy me! Some of them had friends who were lieutenants and were quite uppish about it, but none that I knew had a Captain.