The next dance was Fred Tyson’s, and when it ended they seated themselves in a corner of the hall to cool off, and as Nathalie fanned herself with a much bedraggled handkerchief, they hit upon a topic that proved most entertaining, and that was—college. Fred stated that he expected to go to Dartmouth in the fall and was therefore looking forward to it with much pleasure.
Nathalie, with sparkling eyes, told how she had dreamed and longed to go to college, and then the golden lights in her eyes shadowed as she said that since the death of her father she had decided to stop dreaming about what was impossible for her, and to do something worth while, so she had become a Pioneer.
“But don’t you think it worth while to go to college?” was Fred’s puzzled query, “for surely there is nothing that will help a girl more in life than to have—what is it—the higher education?”
“Yes, I know,” assented his companion, “that is all right, but when one finds that they can’t have a thing—no matter how big or grand it is, or how much they want it—if it is impossible, it ceases to be worth while; that is, why spend time lamenting, or thinking about something that can’t be accomplished?”
“Why, you are a regular little philosopher!” laughed Fred. But Nathalie was not heeding, for suddenly looking across the room she perceived that the dancers had retired from the floor, all but the Pioneers, who were standing in two lines in the center of the room facing one another as if about to dance the Virginia Reel.
“Oh, what are they going to do?” she cried, but before her companion could answer Helen came running up.
“Come on, Nathalie, we are going to dance the Pioneer dance. It’s lots of fun.”
“But I don’t know it,” objected the girl. “I am not going to make a show of myself before all these boys.”
“Oh, but you won’t,” urged Helen, “for you can be my partner, and I will tell you as we go along; and then its awfully simple, for we just go through the motions of pioneer handcraft—”
“Pioneer handcraft?” echoed Nathalie more puzzled than before.