Wally had not waited for permission from Mr. Boone. At the first sound of the music he had darted towards Sarah, arriving beside the lady with "the natural friz" a yard in front of Fred Anderson.
It was not etiquette to refuse to dance, and the fact that he was "the Boss's" guest, if only a boy, carried weight. Sarah rose, with a rueful glance at her disappointed swain. The two disconsolate faces moved Wally to compassion.
"I say—I'm awfully sorry," he said. "'Fraid I got ahead of you unfairly, Fred—perhaps you'll excuse me this time, Sarah? You don't mind? Well, you'll give me the next, won't you? Thanks, awfully." He relinquished her to the beaming Fred, and returned, partnerless, to Mr. Linton and Cecil.
Then it was a marvellous sight to behold young Dave Boone! With Mrs. Brown on his arm, he "took the floor" at the head of the room, seeing that the dancers were correctly sorted out in sets; and thence proceeded to dance and instruct the room simultaneously, in a manner truly amazing. With what agility did he "set to partner" and "swing corner," with his eagle eye all the time scanning the sets to make sure no one mixed up the commands!—how ably bear his part in "First lady and second gent.," not even put out of step by the necessity of telling the further end of the room that it was going wrong!—how splendidly issue the edict to "chassee-crossee" and "gent. solo," finding time, even in the press of his double occupation, to propel his panting partner in the way she should go! His voice rang out over the room, indicating each figure as it came—there was no excuse for making any mistake in a square dance when Mr. Boone was in command. And all the while he danced with a wholehearted energy and a face of absolute gravity. No one, watching him, could have possibly imagined that this was a pastime.
"I've seen Boone looking infinitely more cheerful when fighting a bush fire!" said Mr. Linton.
"Talk about a conjurer!" was Cecil's astonished comment. "I never saw one man do so many things at once!"
The music ceased at last, and the "Seats, please!" marked the temporary termination of the labours of the M.C. Murty brought Norah back to her father, thanked her gravely, and made off.
"What happened to you, Wally?" queried Jim, restoring a blushing damsel in blue to her form and rejoining his relations. "Did Sarah turn you down?"
"I resigned gracefully in favour of Fred," Wally said. "He looked murderous, and Sarah looked woe-begone, so it seemed the best plan. But she's mine for the next—and ill befall the caitiff that disputes my claim!"
"No one'd dare!" said Jim, hastily. "I'm after Brownie, myself."