Bess was shy, and thought she could not go by herself to speak to a stranger. "I'll wait till I see Louise," she said.
"Who is that girl?" some one asked the little hostess.
"Her name is Dora Warner," was the reply. "Mamma knows her mother. They haven't lived here long. I have tried to introduce her, but nobody wants to talk to her, and she doesn't know a single game. I wish Mamma would come and take care of her."
The stranger sat alone looking on at the merry scene. She felt timid and unhappy, and had to wink very hard now and then to get rid of a troublesome mist that found its way to her eyes.
"I am silly I know; I ought not to expect to get acquainted all at once," she said to herself bravely.
If it had not been for the loneliness she might have enjoyed the fun going on around her, even though she had no part in it. Such dainty dresses, such laughing and dancing about, such airs and graces, she had never before seen! She recognized the charming little girls who had so taken her fancy a week or two before—sisters, she felt sure, of that dear little Carie.
"Oh, dear!" she said at last; "I can't help wishing I had not come!"
Not thinking what she was doing, Dora took up a croquet mallet which had been left on the bench, and began slowly to screw it into the ground. Just then a boy rushed by hotly chased by another. The one in pursuit tripped on the mallet and fell headlong on the grass.
"Are you hurt? I am so sorry; I did not mean to do it!" she exclaimed in dismay.
"No, I am not hurt," he replied, sitting up and rubbing the stains off his hands with his handkerchief. "How did you come to do it anyhow?" and he gave her a glimpse of a pair of merry brown eyes, and then went on polishing his hands.