“They are making a fool of that little girl.  I wanted you to see her, but they have spoiled her entirely.  She’s nothing but a doll tonight.”

“Oh, dear!” sighed Meg.  “I wish I’d been sensible and worn my own things, then I should not have disgusted other people, or felt so uncomfortable and ashamed of myself.”

She leaned her forehead on the cool pane, and stood half hidden by the curtains, never minding that her favorite waltz had begun, till some one touched her, and turning, she saw Laurie, looking penitent, as he said, with his very best bow and his hand out . . .

“Please forgive my rudeness, and come and dance with me.”

“I’m afraid it will be too disagreeable to you,” said Meg, trying to look offended and failing entirely.

“Not a bit of it, I’m dying to do it.  Come, I’ll be good.  I don’t like your gown, but I do think you are just splendid.”  And he waved his hands, as if words failed to express his admiration.

Meg smiled and relented, and whispered as they stood waiting to catch the time, “Take care my skirt doesn’t trip you up.  It’s the plague of my life and I was a goose to wear it.”

“Pin it round your neck, and then it will be useful,” said Laurie, looking down at the little blue boots, which he evidently approved of.

Away they went fleetly and gracefully, for having practiced at home, they were well matched, and the blithe young couple were a pleasant sight to see, as they twirled merrily round and round, feeling more friendly than ever after their small tiff.

“Laurie, I want you to do me a favor, will you?” said Meg, as he stood fanning her when her breath gave out, which it did very soon though she would not own why.

“Won’t I!” said Laurie, with alacrity.

“Please don’t tell them at home about my dress tonight.  They won’t understand the joke, and it will worry Mother.”

“Then why did you do it?” said Laurie’s eyes, so plainly that Meg hastily added . . .

“I shall tell them myself all about it, and ‘fess’ to Mother how silly I’ve been.  But I’d rather do it myself.  So you’ll not tell, will you?”

“I give you my word I won’t, only what shall I say when they ask me?”

“Just say I looked pretty well and was having a good time.”

“I’ll say the first with all my heart, but how about the other?  You don’t look as if you were having a good time.  Are you?” And Laurie looked at her with an expression which made her answer in a whisper . . .

“No, not just now.  Don’t think I’m horrid.  I only wanted a little fun, but this sort doesn’t pay, I find, and I’m getting tired of it.”

“Here comes Ned Moffat.  What does he want?” said Laurie, knitting his black brows as if he did not regard his young host in the light of a pleasant addition to the party.

“He put his name down for three dances, and I suppose he’s coming for them.  What a bore!” said Meg, assuming a languid air which amused Laurie immensely.