The car rolled away into the darkness, and the girls went up-stairs, talking things over as they went.
“Isn’t Miss Wallace the sweetest thing?”
“Something’s the matter with Priscilla. She wasn’t talking. What is it, Virginia?”
“Oh, she’s excited, and perhaps—perhaps, she doesn’t feel exactly well.” Virginia felt more free, now that Priscilla was safely on her way.
At the Gordon school all was excitement. Boys in white trousers waited impatiently at the gates, as the automobiles and carriages approached, to greet their friends and conduct them to the brilliantly lighted and beautifully decorated gymnasium. This annual dance on Washington’s Birthday was the one real social function, outside Commencement, allowed at Gordon, and its importance was greatly felt by the young hosts.
Priscilla, strangely shivery, tried to reply easily to Carver’s remarks, as they went up the walk toward the gymnasium.
“Isn’t it lucky you didn’t catch those things? I was dead scared you would when you wrote me.”
“Yes, it’s—it is lucky.”
“My! Your cheeks are red, Priscilla. Just the way they used to be after swimming. Say, but you’re looking great!”