Part 33 (1/2)
AT THE DANCE
It was the night of the junior dance, an annual affair second only in importance to commencement and a function attended, as Holly Cross used to say, ”by all the beauty and chivalry of Haddonfield and all points north, south, east and west.” On this occasion all strictly partisan college feelings were laid aside. Forgotten were the grudges engendered by hazings or the rivalries of the field. It was an evening devoted to pleasure, and, on the part of the juniors at least, to seeing that their girl friends and acquaintances danced to their hearts' content.
”Tom,” cried Sid as they were dressing in their room, ”does this dress suit seem to fit?”
”Well, it might be a little larger across the shoulders,” was Tom's answer as he turned around from an attempt to get his tie just right and surveyed his chum.
”That's what I thought. I'm outgrowing it. I'm afraid it will split when I'm dancing, and I'll be a pretty sight, won't I? I'll disgrace the girl. Hang it all, I hate a dress suit. I always remind myself of some new specimen of a bug, and I think some entomological professor will come along, run a pin through me and impale me on a cork. In fact I'd just as soon he would as to go through this agony again.”
”Nonsense. You'll enjoy it,” ventured Tom.
”Maybe--after it's all over.”
But he managed somehow to wiggle himself into the garments and then, having asked a girl to the affair, he set off after her in a coach he had hired. Tom had not invited any one, but he heard that Miss Tyler was to be there and from the same source of information he knew that Langridge was to escort her.
”In which case,” reflected Tom, ”I shall probably not have a chance to dance with her.”
The gymnasium had been turned into a ballroom. Around the gallery, which contained the indoor running track, flags and bunting had been festooned, the colors of Randall being prominent. From the center electric chandelier long streamers of ribbon of the mingled hues of each cla.s.s were draped to the boxes that had been constructed on two sides of the room. There was a profusion of flowers and with the soft glow of the shaded lights the big apartment that was wont to resound to the blows of the punching bag, the bound of the medicine ball or the patter of running feet was most magically transformed.
Over in one corner, screened by a bank of palms, was the orchestra, the musicians of which were tuning their instruments in thrilling chords which always tell of joys to come.
The guests were arriving. Bewildering bevies of pretty girls floated in with their escorts, who showed the tan and bronze of the sporting field or the whiter hue of a ”dig” who spent most of his time over his books.
Then came the chaperons, grave, dignified, in rustling silks, a strange contrast to the light, fluffy garments worn by the younger set.
Tom felt rather lonesome as he strolled out on the waxed floor, for most of his chums had girls to whom they were attentive, and of course they could not be expected to look after him.
”h.e.l.lo, Parsons!” called a voice, and he turned to see one of the Jersey twins. Which one it was he could not determine, for if Jerry and Joe Jackson looked alike when in their ball suits or ordinary clothes, there was even less of difference when they wore formal black, with the expanse of s.h.i.+rt showing.
”h.e.l.lo!” responded Tom.
”I'm Jerry,” went on the twin. ”I thought I'd tell you. My brother and I are going to play a joke to-night.”
”What is it?”
”Joe's going to get talking to a girl and then he's going to excuse himself for a moment. I'll take his place and I'll pretend I don't know what she's talking about when the girl tries to continue the conversation. I'll make believe I've come back to the wrong girl. Great, isn't it?”
”Yes, except maybe for the girl.”
”Oh, we'll beg her pardon afterward. Got to have some fun. I'm on the arrangement committee and I'm nearly crazy seeing that every one has a good time. Got your name down on all the cards you want?”
”I haven't it on any yet.”
”No? That's a shame! Come on and I'll fix you up,” and the good-natured Jerry dragged Tom about, introducing him to an entrancing quartet of pretty girls and then Tom knew enough to do the rest, which included scribbling his name down for a whole or a half dance as the case might be.
He had just finished this very satisfactory work when he heard his name called and turned to see Miss Tyler smiling at him.
”I'm awfully glad to see you,” he exclaimed, starting impulsively toward her with outstretched hand. ”May I have a dance?”
”Only one?” she asked with a laugh.
”All of them, if you can spare them,” he said boldly.