"Where have you been all this time?"
"We've been calling you every sort of a name for being so rude as to stay away from the supper."
"Oh, Nan had her good reason," shouted Mrs. Cole, pushing back her chair and springing to her feet.
"Come, girls and boys!" she cried shrilly, "it's getting late. If we want to dance we'd better be about it."
Of course that led to a general uprising, and in a moment the whole tableful was swarming toward the parlor.
"How do you like it, Nan?" asked John Gardiner, quizzically, coming and leaning toward her to whisper the question in her ear, as they stood at one side waiting for the music to begin.
"Like it!" repeated Nan, "I think Mrs. Cole's simply—well, I'm sorry she was ever asked to come. It would all have been so different if we had had Mrs. Andrews or Mrs. Hawes or—just imagine Miss Blake acting as she has to-night!"
"I can't imagine it!" returned John, emphatically, "and worse yet, Mike is in no condition to drive us home. He's been drinking. I went out to see if the horses were all right and being fed, you know, and there I heard about it. Mike simply mustn't drive."
Nan pressed her hands together and gave a stifled groan.
"That's what I wanted to tell you," continued John, hurriedly. "It isn't safe to let him try and I'm going to take his place myself. I don't know how long I can stand it, for it's colder than ever and I haven't any driving gloves, but I'll do the best I can and perhaps some of the other fellows will lend a hand."