“And the sea, and all that in them is!” said Captain Sayre.  “Look here, Miss Fairfield, I’ll be satisfied with the other five.  Thus, you’re dividing your dances evenly, don’t you see?”

“Nonsense!  I’ll agree to no such highway robbery!  You may have a dance, Captain Sayre,—­take a waltz, if you like; and then give me my card again.  Do you want one, Jack?”

“Do I?  Does a squirrel want nuts?  Only one, Sea Spirit?”

“Yes, only one.  It’s such a short programme to-night.”

“And is Big Bill to have five?”

“Indeed, no!  I shall cross those all off but one.”

Learning, somehow, of what was going on, most of the men at the table began to beg Patty for a dance, and in a few moments her card was filled.

She shook her head reprovingly at Farnsworth, who quite understood the reason.

Supper over, the dancing began, and as it was a summer evening, the dances alternated with cooling strolls on the long verandas of the club house.  Patty loved to dance, and greatly preferred good dancers for partners.

Captain Sayre was especially proficient in the art, and as their dance was followed by an “extra,” he persuaded Patty to do a fancy dance with him, like they had danced at the Sayres’ garden party.  Soon most of the dancers had paused to watch the two, swaying and pirouetting in a dance, partly impromptu, and partly fashioned on some they had previously learned.  It was a pretty sight.  Patty, whose step was light as thistledown, followed any hint of Captain Sayre’s, and so clever were his leads that the audience broke into loud applause.  It was almost more than Farnsworth could bear.  He stood looking at them with such a wistful expression that Patty concluded to stop.

“I’m a little tired,” she whispered to her partner, “but I want to dance a moment alone.  Will you let me?  And ask the orchestra to play the Spring Song.”

“I’ll love to look at you,” declared the captain, and at the end of a measure, he gracefully danced away from her, and Patty stood alone.

The rest had all ceased dancing now, preferring to watch, and as they were nearly all Patty’s friends and acquaintances, she felt no embarrassment.

“The Apple Blossom Dance,” she said, and flung herself into a series of wonderful rhythmic motions that seemed to give hint of all the charms of spring.  One could almost see flowers and hear birds as the light draperies swayed like veils in a soft breeze.  And then, with a fleeting glance and smile at Farnsworth, Patty plucked apple blossoms from overhanging boughs, and tossed them to the audience.  There were no trees, and there were no blossoms, but so exquisite was her portrayal of blossom time, and so lovely her swaying arms and tossing hair that many were ready to declare they could even detect the fragrance of the flowers.  But when Patty essayed to stop, the riotous applause that followed and the cries of “Encore! encore!” persuaded her to dance once more, though very tired.