“Does it matter who we are? I must go. Good night.” Followed the gracious addition. “Your costume was much the funniest at the romp.”
In the second of silence which succeeded the compliment the two maskers faced each other, Leslie across the threshold now, Marjorie still inside the vestibule.
“Thank you, and double thank you,” Leslie said in an odd muffled voice. “Good night.” She turned and started across the campus at a swinging stride which might have belonged to a true country boy.
“Thank goodness,” breathed Marjorie. She watched the lonely figure fast disappearing into the darkness and a feeling of pity rose in her heart because Leslie could not remain at the romp and enjoy the fun of winning the prize her ludicrous get-up merited.
It had taken longer than she thought to conduct Leslie to the door. Marjorie decided it to be hardly worth while to renew her search for Robin Page, whom thus far she had not been able to pick out among the rustic throng. She had not more than re-entered the ball room when the unmasking whistle blew shrilly. Its high, piercing blasts were immediately drowned by waves of echoing laughter as masks were removed and identities jubilantly made known.
Marjorie made a swift rush forward to meet an Irish country woman who was jogging peacefully along, a small, covered, green and white basket on her arm. She was dressed in a voluminous bright-figured brown cretonne dress. Over her shoulders was a green and red plaid shawl, on her head a white mob cap with a full white outstanding ruffle and a huge green satin bow decorating the front of it. Wide flat black slippers, green and red plaid hosiery which her ankle length dress permitted a glimpse of and a bright green umbrella completed her gay attire.
“Now for the sake av ould Ireland, is it yerself I am finding forninst me?” demanded the delighted Hibernian lady, offering Marjorie one end of her umbrella to shake instead of her hand.
“Yes, it is certainly myself and no other. But where have you been? Not out on the floor. I never saw sign of you in that costume until this minute. You tricky old Celt. You appeared late on purpose, that’s what you did,” Marjorie accused.
Leila smiled widely and cheerfully. “Now how can you blame me? Since I am Irish then how could I appear in the gym in an Irish costume of my own special fancy and not have the campus dwellers add two and two? So I have had a fine, exciting time sitting up in my room twirling my Irish thumbs until time for me to set out for the festival.”
“What a mean thing to do; to put your friends to so much needless trouble. How long have you been on the floor?”