"Why, papa, you danced it beautifully! Every single year you shall dance
Sir Roger de Coverley, and you shall always dance it with me."
He shouted that he would not. He always shouted. He would have felt himself falling behind himself on this festive occasion if he had been less boisterous to the end.
"I think it has been the nicest of all our parties," Deleah declared to her sister, as the girls went to their room.
"I've certainly enjoyed it the most," said Bessie. "And Reggie said so had he."
"You danced six times with Reggie, Bess. I counted."
"It is a pity you were not better employed. You wanted to dance with him yourself, I suppose?"
"Why, I did!" Deleah cried, and laughed "I danced the Lancers with him—twice. And in the grand chain he lifted me off my feet. He's most beautifully strong, Reggie is! Did he lift you off your feet, Bess?"
"Reggie would know better than to take such a liberty," Bess said, who was not dark and petite like her sister, but plump and fair and somewhat heavily built. "And you're too old for such romping, yourself, Deleah; and you've nicely spoilt your frock with it!"
"Yards of frilling gone," Deleah said happily, as if the loss of so much material was a merit. "Just a teeny bit came off to start with; Tom Marston caught his toe in it, and went, galloping the whole length of the room carrying it with him and his partner before I could stop him. Oh, how I laughed!"
"Mama won't laugh! She said you must wear the same frock at the Arkwrights' dance next week."