And it was, even for Florence, up to a certain point. Then something happened, as things have a way of doing, that for a time at least spoiled her fun.
The mixed program of modern and old-fashioned dances served to hold the hilarity to a moderate level. More than once a man in a red devil costume, whom Florence recognized as Hugo, attempted to bribe the musicians into changing the program, but it was no go. They had their orders. They would follow them.
It was this same red devil who caused all of Florence’s trouble, which in the end turned into quite a joy. She was standing on the side line between dances when the red devil peeked round a corn shock, then as he approached her whispered, “I am told that this beautiful child who lives at your house is here. Do me the favor to tell me how she is dressed.”
“I—I really don’t know.” Florence was both surprised and frightened. She had not known that Verna was to be there. Indeed she was under the impression that her parents had forbidden her coming.
“Oh yes you know!” the red devil hissed in her ear. “You know well enough, but you won’t tell. It’s all right. I’ll find out. I take what I want!” There was a serpent-like hiss in his voice. Then he was gone.
Florence stared at the corn shock behind which he had vanished. Her mind was in a whirl. Was Verna truly here? If she was, she must find and warn her. The words of Rosa, tragic words, came to her: “He is a bad, bad man!” His own words still rang in her ears: “I take what I want.”
“Does he?” she asked herself fiercely. “Perhaps he does.” Strangely enough, she saw in her mind’s eye at that moment the picture of Verna.
Florence had developed an unusual gift. She had discovered long ago that she could recognize friends, even at some distance, by their habitual movements. If they were walking, rowing or playing a game, it was all the same. She had developed this gift until now she could recognize people instantly under any circumstances. “I must find Verna,” she whispered, gripping at her heart to still its wild panic.
A dance began. Her partner came to claim her. It chanced to be a waltz. As she floated about among the corn shocks, she was looking, looking, looking.
And then she saw her. “A fairy!” she whispered to herself. “Verna is dressed as a fairy, all in white, with wings. How exquisite!”