"Ze musicale?" says she. "It is commence. S-s-s-sh!" and she points down the hallway.
"Yes, I was afraid I'd be late," says I. "Glad they didn't wait. I'll sneak into a back seat."
Did I? Well, say, I didn't know what I was runnin' into; for as I pushes through some draperies I finds myself on the side lines of the biggest herd of girls I ever saw collected in one room before. Why, there was rows and rows of 'em, all in white dresses, and the minute I steps in about two hundred pairs of eyes revolves my way.
Talk about jumpin' into the limelight! I felt like I'd wandered out on the stage while the big scene was goin' on. Then comes the giggles, and business with the elbows of passin' the nudge along. They all forgets what's doin' up on the platform by the piano and pays strict attention to me. Blush? Say, I'll bet my ears ain't got back their reg'lar color yet!
Seemed like my feet was stuck to the floor, too. Maybe it was an hour I stood there, and maybe it was only a minute; but at last I takes one wild look around over that girl convention and then I backs out. I'd seen him, though. Way over by an open window on the other side was Mr. Robert, one of the four men in that whole crowd. So out the front door I rushes and then tiptoes around the veranda until I came to him.
And he wa'n't gazin' around watchin' for casual butters-in. Not Mr. Robert! All he's seein' is the slim young lady standin' up on the platform with the violin tucked under her chin. You couldn't blame him much, either; for, while I ain't any judge of the sort of music she was teasin' out of the strings, I'll say this much: The way she was doin' it was well worth watchin'. The swing of that elbow of hers, and the Isadora Duncan sway of her shoulders as she hits the high notes sure did have some class to it. He's so busy followin' her motions that he don't even know when I leans in within six inches of him and whispers. So I has to give him the gentle prod.
"Eh!" says he, whirlin' around. "Why, what the—Torchy!"
"Uh-huh," says I. "Crawl out backwards, can't you?"
"Wha—what's that!" says he, whisperin' sort of husky.
"You got to do it," says I. "I was sent up special to get you."