“That’s it; you see Charlie Lien does not care for dancin’ and those are his friends.”
The music began again and my partner asked if I would care to be taken back to the ball-room. This I declined. I wished to be alone. I realized that I received attention only at the request of Mrs. Lien, or as a matter of convenience. Bitterness was upon me, a bitterness that might have been born of Mr. Bang’s bitterness. Drat that man! His personality seems to be overpowering mine! He, his sayings and moods, are ever cropping up in my mind. I wish I had never seen him. I am becoming such a cynic as he.
From my seat I could see into the ball-room on my right, and the dining-room on my left; this I surveyed. Upon the table there was a profusion of dainties and the flowers were magnificent. Yuletide decorations were festooned about the ceiling. On the side-board beyond the table was a great punch-bowl and I noticed several decanters. Couples passed into the dining-room and helped themselves from the punch-bowl, laughing and chatting. Evidently the exercise was making them thirsty. I was thirsty myself.
While I watched eagerly, my ears caught scraps of conversation coming up the stairway. They all bore upon foot-ball and hockey, and as time went by the noise became worse.
But nothing could distract my mind from the bitter thoughts within me, as I watched the enjoyment of the other girls, the pets of society, those with the costly and extreme dresses. Their laughter was so clear, spontaneous and free, their manners so familiar and easy. Men were continually passing up and down from the billiard-room. A footman went down, and shortly afterwards I heard a voice say, “I’ll be back in a minute, boys,” and Charlie Lien came running up the stairs. It was the first time I had seen him in his own house. He caught sight of me as he passed and exclaimed, “Hello!” in a startled way, and then he laughed. He passed down the hall to his mother who immediately began to upbraid him. From my seat in the shade I had a good view of her every expression. Charlie did not seem to take things seriously for he answered flippantly. His mother became more angry as the altercation proceeded. Charlie finally broke away and passed to the ball-room, paused, looked in and then came down the hall. I thought, and evidently his mother also, had the same suspicion, that he was going back to his friends. Picture my surprise when he stopped before me.
“Say,” he said, “the mater says I am disgracing myself, that I should look after her guests. I don’t know anything about dancing and its her dance and Mabel’s—not mine.”
“I know that,” I answered. “I saw you play against the Leafs; it was grand.”
His eyes lighted up.
“You did!” he exclaimed. “Say you’re a nice little girl, will you dance with me?”
“With pleasure,” I answered; “the next waltz.”