He was unable to foresee a future apart from her; and when she informed him that she preferred his style of dancing to all other styles shown by the Men at this party, her thus singling him out for praise only emphasized, in his mind, that point upon which he was the most embittered.

“Yes!” he reflected.  “It had to be me!” With all the crowd to choose from, Mrs. Parcher had to go and pick on him!  All, all the others went about, free as air, flitting from girl to girl—­girls that danced like girls!  All, all except William, danced with Miss Pratt!  What Miss Pratt had offered him was a choice between the thirty-second dance and the twenty-first extra.  That was what he had to look forward to:  the thirty-second reg’lar or the twenty-first extra!

Meanwhile, merely through eternity, he was sealed unto Miss Boke.

The tie that bound them oppressed him as if it had been an ill-omened matrimony, and he sat beside her like an unwilling old husband.  All the while, Miss Boke had no appreciation whatever of her companion’s real condition, and, when little, spasmodic, sinister changes appeared in his face (as they certainly did from time to time) she attributed them to pains in his ankle.  However, William decided to discard his ankle, after they had “sat out” two dances on account of it.  He decided that he preferred dancing, and said he guessed he must be better.

So they danced again—­and again.

When the fourteenth dance came, about half an hour before midnight, they were still dancing together.

It was upon the conclusion of this fourteenth dance that Mr. Parcher mentioned to his wife a change in his feelings toward William.  “I’ve been watching him,” said Mr. Parcher, “and I never saw true misery show plainer.  He’s having a really horrible time.  By George!  I hate him, but I’ve begun to feel kind of sorry for him!  Can’t you trot up somebody else, so he can get away from that fat girl?”

Mrs. Parcher shook her head in a discouraged way.  “I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and I’ve tried!” she said.

“Well, try again.”

“I can’t now.”  She waved her hand toward the rear of the house.  Round the corner marched a short procession of negroes, bearing trays; and the dancers were dispersing themselves to chairs upon the lawn “for refreshments.”

“Well, do something,” Mr. Parcher urged.  “We don’t want to find him in the cistern in the morning!”

Mrs. Parcher looked thoughtful, then brightened. “I know!” she said.  “I’ll make May and Lola and their partners come sit in this little circle of chairs here, and then I’ll go and bring Willie and Miss Boke to sit with them.  I’ll give Willie the seat at Lola’s left.  You keep the chairs.”

Straightway she sped upon her kindly errand.  It proved successful, so successful, indeed, that without the slightest effort—­without even a hint on her part—­she brought not only William and his constant friend to sit in the circle with Miss Pratt, Miss Parcher and their escorts, but Mr. Bullitt, Mr. Watson, Mr. Banks, and three other young gentlemen as well.  Nevertheless, Mrs. Parcher managed to carry out her plan, and after a little display of firmness, saw William satisfactorily established in the chair at Miss Pratt’s left.