The late arrival of the girl whom all these guests were invited to meet, caused a stir of merriment, which Dorothy met with a certain charm and grace, that was her direct inheritance from Aunt Winnie.
The boys emerged from the side room and looked around the dancing room, sheepishly. Now, in North Birchland and in Dalton, Ned and Nat enjoyed a dance, or a party, even if they did show a decided tendency to hide behind Dorothy and Aunt Winnie. But here in New York they were not gallant enough to hide their misery, and the comfortable back of Aunt Winnie was not at all at their disposal, and Tavia’s back they had given up some hours since as hopeless, which left Dorothy as the last thin straw! And Dorothy was too much of a wisp of straw to hide such broad shoulders as Bob’s and Ned’s and entirely too short to hide tall Nat! So they clung together in a corner until Tavia separated them, giving each young man a charming girl to pilot over the slippery floor through the maze of a two-step.
Tavia was bubbling over with mirth. All this was as much to her liking—the lovely gowns and the laughter, the easy wit and light chatter.
“Did you notice that big suit-case in the hall?” whispered Tavia, mysteriously to Dorothy.
“Yes, indeed,” replied Dorothy. “Are some of these people staying over the week-end?”
“Sh-h-h!” warned Tavia, leading Dorothy to a secluded corner behind a tall palm, “I’m really afraid to say it out loud!”
“This isn’t a dark mystery, I hope. Tavia, I’m weary of sudden surprises—tell me at once,” demanded Dorothy, laughing at Tavia’s very dramatic manner of being securely hidden from view.
With one slender finger, Tavia pointed between the leaves of the palm to the dancing floor.
“Do you see that very picturesque creature in green?” she whispered.
“Well,” said Tavia relaxing, “that’s her suit-case.”
“Who is she?” asked Dorothy, “and why bring her bag here?”
“She’s a society girl,” replied Tavia, peering out between the palm leaves, “and she arrived at four o’clock this afternoon with a maid and a suit-case.”
“Auntie said nothing about week-end guests,” said Dorothy.
“Of course she didn’t, and this isn’t a week-end guest, this is a society girl! She couldn’t play cards at four, and have dinner at seven, and a dance at eight-thirty, without a suit-case and a maid; could she? How unreasonable you are, Dorothy,” exclaimed Tavia, with scorn.