“Why, look who’s here,” exclaimed Nancy. “Percival Algernon St. Clair, why didn’t you tell us yesterday when you gave us soda water at the drug store that you were coming on this trip, too?”
“Because it was secret,” answered Percy, who was very blond and blushed easily. “Miss Campbell wanted to surprise you.”
“I thought it would be nice for my girls to have some partners for the dance to-night,” said Miss Campbell. “I wanted to see some real dancing.”
“If you want to see the real thing, then, Miss Campbell,” said Merry Brown, “if you want to see the poetry of motion, you must see Ben dance.”
“Shut up, bow-legs,” called Ben across the table. “I’ve been learning for months. I took lessons last summer.”
“Where?” demanded his friends, because at the school dances, Ben’s expression of misery was well known when he towed an unfortunate friend around the room.
“I know,” said Percy, “it’s all explained now. That’s what you were doing at the Dutch picnics every week.”
“Well, they were pretty good teachers,” replied the imperturbable Ben. “They taught me that guiding a girl in a dance was very much like sailing a boat with a windmill for a sail. You have to guide and twirl at the same time, and the more speed you make in twirling the better your dancing is.”
Everybody laughed uproariously at this description.
“Ben Austen, I didn’t expect to be treated like a windmill sail boat when I promised to give you my first dance,” announced Elinor.