Paul made no answer, but as the quadrille broke up, went forward to the object of this enconium as she accepted her partner’s offer of a quiet promenade after her dance.
“Minnie,” said he, “you have not danced with me this evening.”
“Because you have not asked me,” replied she, putting her arm through his with an affectionate smile. “I have felt myself quite neglected by you and Kenneth, I assure you.”
“I was just coming to claim you, Minnie,” said Mr. Stuart, who had heard her last remark. “But since I am supplanted this time, we are engaged for the next.”
She nodded to him and passed on to a group of young girls who were talking gayly, and joined them. One, a fair-haired blonde with a pair of melting blue orbs, accosted her with a congratulatory remark upon the entire success of her fête.
“We are all delighted with every thing—with you and with ourselves, par parentheses. But why does not your father dance, Minnie?”
“Go and ask him,” said she laughing. “I have not seen him dance since I was a little girl.”
“Well, he shall dance with me then,” exclaimed the pretty questioner, “and I am going to invite him for the very next quadrille.” And off she tripped to find Mr. de la Croix.
“Dance with you, my sweet young lady,” cried he. “And what will all these gay and handsome fellows say to my usurping their place?”
“That I show very good taste in my selection of a cavalier,” was the reply. “You must dance with me Mr. de la Croix because—I have said that you must.”