She thanked Heaven that it was a waltz for, while the new steps were unknown, Maria could waltz—that was a gift from Papa.
"With pleasure, Signor," she murmured, rising.
"But you must take off your hat," Mrs. Blair told her.
"My hat? Take off?"
"That brim is too wide, my dear. You couldn't dance."
"But to go bareheaded—like a peasant?" Maria Angelina faltered and they laughed.
"It doesn't matter—it's much better than that brim," Mrs. Blair pronounced and obediently Maria's small hands rose and removed the overshadowing whiteness from the dark little head with its coronet of heavy braids.
She did not raise her eyes to see Barry Elder's sudden flash of astonishment. Shyly she slipped within his clasp and let him swing her out into the circle of dancers.
Maria Angelina could waltz, indeed. She was fairy-footed, and for some moments Barry Elder was content to dance without speaking; then he bent his head closer to those dark braids.