Part 47 (1/2)
”It was so amusing,” I pleaded.
”I suppose it was,” she agreed, and held out her hand. ”Did I hurt you?”
she asked.
”Yes, you did,” I answered, taking it.
”Well, it was enough to annoy me, wasn't it?” she suggested.
”Evidently,” I agreed.
”I am going to a ball next week,” she explained, ”a grown-up ball, and I've got to wear a skirt. I wanted to see if I could manage a train.”
”Well, to be candid, you can't,” I a.s.sured her.
”It does seem difficult.”
”Shall I show you?” I asked.
”What do you know about it?”
”Well, I see it done every night.”
”Oh, yes; of course, you're on the stage. Yes, do.”
We readjusted the torn skirt, accommodating it better to her figure by the help of hairpins. I showed her how to hold the train, and, I humming a tune, we commenced to waltz.
”I shouldn't count my steps,” I suggested to her. ”It takes your mind away from the music.”
”I don't waltz well,” she admitted meekly. ”I know I don't do anything well--except play hockey.”
”And try not to tread on your partner's feet. That's a very bad fault.”
”I do try not to,” she explained.
”It comes with practice,” I a.s.sured her.
”I'll get Tom to give me half an hour every evening,” she said. ”He dances beautifully.”
”Who's Tom?”
”Oh, father.”
”Why do you call your father Tom? It doesn't sound respectful.”
”Oh, he likes it; and it suits him so much better than father. Besides, he isn't like a real father. He does everything I want him to.”
”Is that good for you?”
”No; it's very bad for me--everybody says so. When you come to think of it, of course it isn't the way to bring up a girl. I tell him, but he merely laughs--says it's the only way he knows. I do hope I turn out all right. Am I doing it better now?”