“You look awfully nice in that white stuff,” he said frankly, and Betty liked the comment on her pretty ruffled white frock which she had dubiously decided a moment before was too plain.

Betty was what country folk call a “natural-born dancer,” and she quickly learned the new steps she had had no opportunity to practice since going West.  All the girls and most of the boys were excellent dancers, too, and Bob was not allowed to beg off.  Frances Martin, the last girl one would have named, had taught a dancing class in her home town with great success and she volunteered to lead Bob.  To his surprise, the boy found he liked the music and movement and before the evening was over he was in a fair way to become a good dancer.

The party broke up promptly at eleven o’clock, and a few minutes later the whir of the last motor bearing home the departing guests died away.  There was a natural lingering to “talk things over,” but by twelve the house was silent and dark.

Betty had just fairly dozed off when some one woke her by shaking her gently.

“Betty!  Betty, please wake up!” whispered a frightened little voice.

CHAPTER VIII

TOO MUCH PARTY

Betty shared a room with Bobby.  The single beds were separated by a table on which an electric drop light and the water pitcher and glasses were placed.

Betty’s first impulse was to snap on the light, but as she put out her hand, Esther grasped her wrist.

“It’s only me,” she whispered, her teeth chattering with fright.  “Don’t wake Bobby up.”

“Are you cold?” asked Betty, sitting up anxiously.  “Perhaps you were too warm dancing.  Do you want to get into bed with me?”

It was a warm night for October, and Betty was at a loss to understand Esther’s shivering.

“I can’t find Libbie!” Esther cried.  “Oh, Betty, I never thought she would do it, never.”

Betty reached for her dressing gown and slippers.

“Don’t cry, or you’ll wake up Bobby,” she advised the sobbing Esther.  “Come on, I’ll go back with you.  Don’t make a noise.”

The girls occupied three connecting rooms, and Esther and Libbie had slept in the end of the suite.  To reach it now, the two girls had to go through the room where Louise and Frances lay slumbering peacefully.  Betty breathed a sigh of relief when they gained Esther’s room and she closed the door carefully and turned on the light.

Esther’s bed, madly tumbled, and Libbie’s, evidently occupied that night, but now empty, were revealed.

Esther dropped down on the floor, wrapping her kimono about her, and regarded Betty trustfully.  She was sure her friend would straighten things out.

“Where is Libbie?” demanded Betty.  “What is she doing?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Esther unhappily.  “But I tell you what I think—­I think she’s eloped!”