der, and smiled.
He had beautiful white teeth which gleamed out of his dark-skinned face,
and he seemed very nice. But he wasn't as handsome as Raymond, nor as
nice--even if he did wear a uniform.

When they reached the Bonners they saw it all illumined for the party.
The Bonners' house was big and square with a porch running round
three sides, the most imposing house in Cherryvale. Already strings of
lanterns were lighted on the lawn, blue and red and yellow orbs. The
lights made the trees and shrubs seem shadowy and remote, mysterious
creatures a-whisper over their own business.

Not yet had many guests arrived, but almost immediately they appeared in
such droves that it seemed they must have come up miraculously through
the floor. The folding camp chairs which lined the parlours and porches
(the rented chairs always seen at Cherryvale parties and funerals) were
one moment starkly exposed and the next moment hidden by light-hued
skirts and by stiffly held, Sunday-trousered dark legs. For a while that
stiffness which inevitably introduces a formal gathering of youngsters
held them unnaturally bound. But just as inevitably it wore away, and by
the time the folding chairs were drawn up round the little table where
"hearts" were to be played, voices were babbling, and laughter was to be
heard everywhere for no reason at all.

At Missy's table sat Raymond Bonner, looking handsomer than ever with
his golden hair and his eyes like black velvet pansies. There was
another boy who didn't count; and then there was the most striking
creature Missy had ever seen. She was a city girl visiting in town, an
older, tall, red-haired girl, with languishing, long-lashed eyes. She
wore a red chiffon dress, lower cut than was worn in Cherryvale, which
looked like a picture in a fashion magazine. But it was not her chic
alone that made her so striking. It was her manner. Missy was, not
sure that she knew what "sophisticated" meant, but she decided that
the visiting girl's air of self-possession, of calm, almost superior
assurance, denoted sophistication. How eloquent was that languid way of
using her fan!

In this languishing-eyed presence she herself did not feel at her best;
nor was she made happier by the way Raymond couldn't keep his eyes off
the visitor. She played her hand badly, so that Raymond and his alluring
partner "progressed" to the higher table while she remained with the boy
who didn't count. But, as luck would have it, to