"Why don't you children have a little dance?" asked the judge. "This hall ought to make a good ball room, and you can take turns at the piano."
"Oh, may we, Judge?" cried Grace in delight. "I am simply dying to have a good waltz on this floor."
"I'll play for you for a while," volunteered Miriam, "then Eva and Jessica can take my place."
Five minutes later the young folks were gliding about the big hall to the strains of a Strauss' waltz, while the judge and his friends looked on, taking an almost melancholy pleasure in the gay scene of youthful enjoyment.
"Will you dance the next waltz with me, Miss Harlowe!" said Henry Hammond to Grace, as she sat resting after a two-step.
After a second's hesitation Grace replied in the affirmative. Despite her resolve to make peace with him, up to that moment Grace had been unable to bring herself to the point of speaking pleasantly to him.
The waltz began, and as they glided around the room she was obliged to acknowledge herself that Henry Hammond's dancing left nothing to be desired.
"Perhaps my impressions of him are unjust, after all," thought Grace. "I suppose I have no right to criticize him so severely, even though he was rude to me the other night. I was rude, too. Perhaps he will turn out—"
But Grace's reflections were cut short by her partner, who had stopped in the center of the hall.
"Miss Harlowe," he said with a disagreeable smile, "you are standing directly under the mistletoe. I suppose you know the penalty."