“Of course we may,” he answered. “I don’t know what we have waited for. I must find a partner. Miss Chalk, may I have the honour of dancing the first dance with you?”
That Miss Chalk’s eyes went up to his with a flash of gratitude, and then down in modesty to the chalked floor, I knew as well as though they had been behind her head instead of before it.
“Oh, thank you,” said she, “I shall be so happy.” And I no more dared glance at Tod than if he had been an uncaged crocodile. She had told him she was engaged for it.
But just as William was about to give her his arm, and some one came and took away Helen, Lady Whitney called him. He spoke with his mother for a minute or two and came back with a cloud on his face.
“I am awfully sorry, Sophie. The mother says I must take out Lady Esther Starr this first time, old Starr’s wife, you know, as my father’s dancing days are over. Lady Esther is seven-and-thirty if she’s a day,” growled Bill, “and as big as a lighthouse. I’ll have the second with you, Sophie.”
“I am afraid I am engaged for the second,” hesitated Miss Sophie. “I think I have promised Joseph Todhetley.”
“Never mind him,” said Bill. “You’ll dance it with me, mind.”
“I can tell him I mistook the dance,” she softly suggested.
“Tell him anything. All right.”
He wheeled round, and went up to Lady Esther, putting on his glove. Sophie Chalk moved away, and I took courage to glance sideways at Tod.