“It would be better than to be treated like a stationary windmill and go turning around in one place like the Germans dance,” observed Billie.
“You may all have your choice,” said Ben. “Stationary or progressive, it’s all one to me, only remember that you have each promised to do a Dutch twirl with me.”
The ballroom was already quite filled with dancers and it seemed very bewildering and delightful to the young girls, if it was only a summer hotel with a piano and two violins and a flute for an orchestra. Ben’s Dutch whirl was so skillfully performed, because like everything else he attempted he had mastered it perfectly, that the girls found it rather exciting fun.
“It’s a regular romp,” cried Billie, who, with glowing cheeks, dropped breathlessly into a chair beside her Cousin Helen.
“Look,” whispered Mary Price, who had been dancing a quiet glide with Charlie Clay and had had a chance to notice some of the other dancers.
For some reason both their young faces turned suddenly very grave. Was it a strange, unexplained premonition that told them the most dangerous enemy either was ever to have was dancing past that moment, in floating pale blue chiffon draperies?
After the dance there was a merry supper party with sandwiches and lemonade in the grill room, and then the Motor Maids were glad enough to get to their beds.
“What a relief it is, Nancy, dear, to have that box of jewels in the safe,” said Billie sleepily, as her eyelids drooped and she settled herself under the covers.
But Nancy did not reply. She was sleeping deeply. Billie, too, was soon oblivious of everything in the world.
As the night wore on, Nancy dreamed that she was dancing the Dutch twirl in a wonderful blue gauze dress, but that the diamond necklace she wore so weighed her down that she could not breathe.