At that moment Gertrude touched her shoulder.
“Oh, Beatrice Leigh, have you anybody engaged for this number and the next? My brother has turned up unexpectedly, and I haven’t a single partner for him. Won’t you take care of him while I rush around to fill his program? Do! There’s a dear!”
“All right,” said Bea, “can he talk?”
“N-no, not much, but you can, and he’s awfully easy to entertain. Tell him about the girls or college life or anything. He’s interested in it all. Will you? Oh, please! There goes Sara now. I’ve got to catch her first thing.”
“Bring on the brother,” exclaimed Bea magnanimously, “I’ll talk to him.”
And she did. Twenty minutes later, when Gertrude in her frantic search through the shifting crowds explored the farthest group of easy chairs in senior corridor, she discovered Miss Bea still chattering vivaciously to a rapt audience of one.
“I’ve been telling him about our playing at politics last month,” she paused to explain; “he was interested.”
The brother smiled down at her. “It is certainly a most entertaining story,” he said.
“Things generally are when Bea tells them,” commented Gertrude, “that is one of her gifts.”
“Oh, thank you!” Bea swept her a curtsey. “But don’t hurry. Didn’t you know that I promised him a dance as a reward for listening to my dissertation on reform. Some day I’ll maybe tell you the story.”