a question; and that
seemed the last straw. His lips quivered, and he had to remember very
hard that he was _not_ a little girl in order to keep back the tears.

Finally the talk died.

"Mamma," blurted out Bobby.

"Yes?"

"Can't I learn how to dance?"

The pair wheeled arm in arm and surveyed him. In the starlight his round
child face showed white and anxious.

"Why, of course you can, darling," replied Mrs. Orde, "Don't you
remember mamma wanted you to go to dancing school last winter, and you
wouldn't go?"

"How soon does dancing school open?" demanded Bobby.

"I don't know. Not much before Christmas, I suppose."

Having thus made a definite resolution to remedy matters, Bobby felt
better, even though he would have to wait another year. This recovery
of spirit was completed the next day. He went with some apprehension to
ask Celia to walk again. She had seemed to him so aloof the night
before, that he could hardly believe her unchanged. However, she
assented to the expedition with alacrity. Hardly had they quitted the
hotel grounds when Bobby shot his question at her.

"Celia," said he, "if I learn how to dance this winter will you dance
with me when you come back next summer?"

"Why of course," said Celia.

"Will you dance with me a lot?"

"Yes."

"Will you dance with me more than you do with any one else?"

Celia pondered.

"I don't know," she said slowly. She paused, her eyes vague. "I guess
so," she added at last.

"Then I'll learn," said Bobby.

"It's lots of fun," said she.

Bobby trod on air. Without his conscious intention their course took
direction to the river front. They walked to the left along the wide,
artificial bank of piling. Beneath them the water swished among the
timbers. On one side were the sand-hills, on the other the blue,
preoccupied river. Across the stream was another facade of piles,
unbroken save for the little boatslips where the Life Saving men had
their station. A strong sweet breeze came from the Lake. Far down ahead
they could just make out the twin piers that, jutting into the Lake,
continued artificially the course of the river. The lighthouses on their
ends were dwarfed by distance.

By and by Celia tired a little, so they sat and dangled their feet and
watched the tiny scalloped blue wavelets dance in the current. A
passer-by stopped a moment to warn them.

"Look out, youngsters, you don't fall in," said he.

Bobby still exalted with the favour he