"Just a 'small and early,'" she said, broaching her errand as soon as she
had fairly driven John off the field--there was just the faintest
suggestion of relief in her tone--"Peggy's mother's giving it--Mrs. Henry
Van Dam."
She looked at Aunt with an assurance as calm as if there were no interdict
upon social experiments.
"Impossible!" gasped Aunt, glancing despairingly in the direction in which
her ally had disappeared. "Why, Nelly doesn't leave the house; I've
stopped her attendance even at Barnard."
"And quite right; but a private house isn't a big school, nor yet the
Opera. Of course you say yes, don't you, Helen?"
"Yes, yes! A dance! Oh, I'm going to a dance! Play for me, Milly; play for
me!"
Humming a bar of a waltz, I caught Aunt Frank in my arms, and whirled her
about the room until she begged for mercy.
"Oh, you dear people, I'm so happy!" I cried as I stopped, my cheeks
glowing, and, falling all about me, a flood of glistening hair; while the
General, whose creed is to wonder at nothing, gazed at me in delighted
amazement.
"You splen--did creature!" she cried.
"I--I would like to go; Aunt Frank, you will let me?" I said meekly, as
too late I realised how differently a New York girl _bien elevee_
would have received the invitation.
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