“I see, well, Chicken Little, you’ll have hard work getting through this crowd—let me help you. Where is Alice?”
Chicken Little pointed.
Alice’s simple white swiss dress was outlined very distinctly against a dark red curtain. She looked very lovely as Mr. Harding immediately observed. Her dark hair was coiled low on her neck with two long curls hanging down over one shoulder. Her gray eyes were sweet and wistful as she watched the gay company in which she had so little part. She had tucked a spray of red berries in her hair and another was fastened at her throat with a handsome old cameo brooch.
“So that is Alice. Well, I think I should like to go to Alice myself. Suppose you take me over and introduce me. I’m Dick Harding.”
The introduction was adequate if not conventional. One of Chicken Little’s hands was slipped confidingly into Dick Harding’s by this time, and she promptly tucked the other into Alice’s when she reached her. This brought the two very close together indeed and made them laugh.
“Here, Chicken Little, what about that introduction?”
Jane glanced from one face to the other with shy embarrassment.
“This is Alice,” she said, looking up at Dick Harding, “and this is Dick Harding, Alice.”
“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Alice,” Dick said, smiling again.
“Alice Fletcher, Mr. Harding.”