After some minutes Cameron, who was truly sorry for the girl, ventured to resume the conversation.
“Didn't you enjoy the evening, Mandy?”
“No, I didn't!” she replied shortly. “I can't dance and they all know it.”
“Why don't you learn, Mandy? You could dance if you practised.”
“I can't. I ain't like the other girls. I'm too clumsy.”
“Not a bit of it,” said Cameron. “I've watched you stepping about the house and you are not a bit clumsy. If you only practised a bit you would soon pick up the schottische.”
“Oh, you're just saying that because you know I'm mad,” said Mandy, slightly mollified.
“Not at all. I firmly believe it. I saw you try a schottische to-night with Perkins and—”
“Oh, shucks!” said Mandy. “He don't give me no show. He gets mad when I tramp on him.”
“All you want is practise, Mandy,” replied Cameron.