Part 39 (2/2)

Mr. Clifton with his wife's money bought a partners.h.i.+p in a retail store on Eighth Avenue, where it is to be hoped he is doing a good business.

Any one desirous of calling upon him at his place of business is referred to the New York City Directory for his number. Whether Mr. and Mrs. Clifton live happily I cannot pretend to say, not being included in the list of their friends; but I am informed by my friend d.i.c.k, who calls occasionally, that Mrs. Clifton is as fascinating now as before her marriage, and very naturally scorns the whole sisterhood of old maids, having narrowly escaped becoming one herself.

CHAPTER XXI.

IDA GREYSON'S PARTY.

When d.i.c.k and his friend reached Mr. Greyson's house, two carriages stood before the door, from each of which descended young guests, who, like themselves, had been invited to the party. One of these brought two young girls of twelve, the other two boys of twelve and fourteen, and their sister of ten. Entering with this party, the two boys felt less embarra.s.sed than if they had been alone. The door was opened by a servant, who said, ”Young ladies' dressing-room, second floor, left-hand room. Young gentlemen's dressing-room opposite.”

Following directions, the boys went upstairs and entered a s.p.a.cious chamber, where they deposited their outer garments, and had an opportunity to arrange their hair and brush their clothes.

”Is your sister here this evening?” asked one of the boys, addressing d.i.c.k.

”No,” said d.i.c.k, soberly; ”she couldn't come.”

”I'm sorry for that. She promised to dance with me the first Lancers.”

”Wouldn't I do as well?” asked d.i.c.k.

”I don't think you would,” said the other, laughing. ”But I'll tell you what,--you shall dance with my sister.”

”I will, with pleasure,” said d.i.c.k, ”if you'll introduce me.”

”Why, I thought you knew her,” said the other, in surprise.

”Perhaps I did,” said d.i.c.k; ”but I exchanged myself off for another boy just before I came, and that makes a difference, you know. I shouldn't have known you, if you hadn't spoken to me.”

”Do you know me now?” asked the other boy, beginning to understand that he had made a mistake.

”You live on Twenty-First Street,--don't you?”

”Yes,” was the unexpected reply, for d.i.c.k had by a curious chance guessed right. ”You're Henry Cameron, after all.”

”No,” said d.i.c.k; ”my name is Richard Hunter.”

”And mine is Theodore Selden; but I suppose you knew that, as you knew where I live. If you're ready, we'll go downstairs.”

”Come, Fosd.i.c.k,” said d.i.c.k.

”We're going to have the Lancers first,” said Theodore. ”Ida told my sister so. Have you a partner engaged?”

”No.”

”Then I'll introduce you to my sister. Come along.”

I may explain here that d.i.c.k, and Fosd.i.c.k also, had several times danced the Lancers in the parlor at the boarding-house in the evening, so that they felt reasonably confident of getting through respectably. Still his new friend's proposal made d.i.c.k feel a little nervous. He was not bashful with boys, but he had very little acquaintance with girls or young ladies, and expected to feel ill at ease with them. Still he could not think of a good reason for excusing himself from the promised introduction, and, after going up to Ida in company with his new friend, and congratulating her on her birthday (he would not have known how to act if Theodore had not set him an example), he walked across the room to where one of the young ladies who had entered at the time he did was seated.

”Alice,” said Theodore, ”this is my friend Mr. Hunter, who would like to dance with you in the first Lancers.”

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