tumped about in them--"to get used
to them!"

"Now, _do_ they hurt awfully?" Gyp asked, in a tone that said, "Of
course they don't," and Jerry, fascinated by the strange girl she saw in
the mirror, answered absently: "Oh, they just feel queer!"

Anyway, going to a "real" party _was_ too exciting to permit of thinking
of one's feet. Jerry moved as though in a dream. Like Gyp, she felt
delightfully grown-up. The spacious, old-fashioned Everett home was gay
with holiday greens, in one corner an orchestra played, Patricia with
her mother and her older sister greeted each guest in such a jolly way
that one felt in a moment that one was going to have the best sort of a
time.

For awhile, very happily, Jerry trailed Gyp among the young people,
exchanging merry greetings. Then suddenly dreadful pains began to cut
sharply through her feet; they climbed higher and higher until they
quivered up and down her spine. Poor Jerry found it hard to keep the
tears from her eyes. She limped to a half-hidden corner near the
orchestra, and slipped off the offending pumps.

Isobel spied her in her hiding-place. Isobel did not know about the
pumps--she thought Jerry had retreated there from shyness. A disdainful
smile curled her pretty lips. She had had moments, since the debate,
when her conscience had bothered her, the more so because Jerry had not
told what had happened; but, as is sometimes the way, after such
moments, she had hardened her heart all the more toward Jerry. She was
savagely jealous, too, over Uncle Johnny's Christmas box to Jerry; she
had figured that the dresses had cost a great deal more than the
bracelet he had given her! So into her head flashed a plan that should
have found no place there, for Isobel was indisputably the prettiest
girl in the room and the most-sought-for dancing partner.

She beckoned gaily to Dana King. She would kill two birds with one
stone, she thought--though not in just those words; she would have the
pleasant satisfaction of seeing Jerry make a ridiculous figure of
herself trying to dance (for Jerry had told her she only knew the
"old-fashioned" dances) and she would see Dana King embarrassed before
all the others! Isobel had never forgiven him for championing Jerry the
night of the debate.

"Will you do me a favor, Dana?" she asked sweetly. "Dance with that poor
Jerry Travis over there. She's _perfectly_ miserable."

Dana hastened, politely, to do what Isobel asked. He had never exchange