"Go and tell her I want to see her." Emily spoke to Johnnie and regretted it. Mrs. Benton let no one know when she corrected her son. But Emily Kenworthy's intention of reproving her daughter was revealed to the world.
"I wouldn't say anything to her. Look, there's a couple—lots of them are dancing that way. It does leave something to be desired," Cora Benton counseled.
"I hadn't thought of saying anything about that to her," Emily said, carelessly. She was surprised at the sharpness of her resentment. After all, hadn't she often told even Cora Benton how to manage her child!
It seemed a long time before Johnnie came back, more or less dutifully. She suspected him of having had several dances in the meantime.
"I can't find her," he reported. "It's like a needle in a haystack. The river is as crowded as the floor. Pete McGill says this is the largest crowd that was ever in this town. He says there are five hundred more cars than there were on Armistice Day. I'll keep my eye open for her. They're not allowing any more cars across the bridge. Would I do—for what you wanted her for?"
"It doesn't matter," said Emily. "It wasn't anything, really, thank you."
But it was something, when presently she saw Martha again, dancing that same way, with that same man, listening with her face tilted up to him exactly as before. It made Emily think of the time Martha had sat absorbed before some story that Jim Kenworthy wove fantastically for her. That man—he must be an old friend. Emily racked her memory. Some girl's older brother, would it be, or some household where Martha had stayed? She tried to fit him in, and as she watched the two, she saw Martha suddenly sort of double down with amusement, shrugging her shoulders, chuckling, while the man, encouraged, peered more boldly into her face.
"I'll put an end to that!" Emily said. And she hurried down and sought out a place from which she might catch Martha's eye. It was difficult to catch an eye so intent upon its interest. She waited persistently till she had got her attention, and signified to her that she wanted to speak to her at once.
Martha came to her presently—alone—on to the platform, flushed, shining, unashamed.
"Oh, mother!" she ejaculated. She sighed with unspeakable satisfaction. "What a night! Could you have believed it!"