perhaps—her own church said it was not—but still, now that
they were here and in love like this—these others looked so
gay and happy—a pretty medley of colors moving round
and round in the green and brown frame—it did not seem
so bad to her. Why shouldn’t people dance, anyway? Girls
like herself and boys like Clyde? Her younger brother and
sister, in spite of the views of her parents, were already
declaring that when the opportunity offered, they were
going to learn.
“Oh, isn’t that too bad!” he exclaimed, thinking how
delightful it would be to hold Roberta in his arms. “We could
have such fun now if you could. I could teach you in a few
minutes if you wanted me to.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replied quizzically, her eyes
showing that his suggestion appealed to her. “I’m not so
clever that way. And you know dancing isn’t considered so
very nice in my part of the country. And my church doesn’t
approve of it, either. And I know my parents wouldn’t like
me to.”
“Oh, shucks,” replied Clyde foolishly and gayly, “what
nonsense, Roberta. Why, everybody dances these days or
nearly everybody. How can you think there’s anything
wrong with it?”
“Oh, I know,” replied Roberta oddly and quaintly, “maybe
they do in your set. I know most of those factory girls do, of
course. And I suppose where you have money and
position, everything’s right. But with a girl like me, it’s
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different. I don’t suppose your parents were as strict as
mine, either.”
“Oh, weren’t they, though?” laughed Clyde who had not
failed to catch the “your set”; also the “where you have
money and position.”
“Well, that’s all you know about it,” he went on. “They were
as strict as yours and stricter, I’ll bet. But I danced just the
same. Why, there’s no harm in it, Roberta. Come on, let me
teach you. It’s wonderful, really. Won’t you, dearest?”
He put his arm around her and looked into her eyes and
she half relented, quite weakened by her desire for him.
Just then the merry-go-round stopped and without any plan
or suggestion they seemed instinctively to drift to the side of
the pavilion where the dancers—not many but avid—were
moving briskly around. Fox-trots and one-steps were being
supplied by an orchestrelle of considerable size. At a
turnstile, all the remaining portions of the pavilion being
screened in, a pretty concessionaire was sitting and taking
tickets—ten cents per dance per couple. But the color and
the music and the motions of the dancers gliding
rhythmically here and there quite seized upon both Clyde
and Roberta.
The orchestrelle stopped and the dancers were coming out.
But no sooner were they out than five-cent admission
checks were once more sold for the new dance.
“I don’t believe I can,” pleaded Roberta, as Clyde led her to
the ticket-stile. “I’m afraid I’m too awkward, maybe. I never
danced, you know.”
“You awkward, Roberta,” he exclaimed. “Oh, how crazy.
Why, you’re as graceful and pretty as you can be. You’ll
see. You’ll be a wonderful dancer.”
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416
Already he had paid the coin and they were inside.
Carried away by a bravado which was three-fourths her
conception of him as a member of the Lycurgus upper crust
and possessor of means and position, he led the way into a
corner and began at once to illustrate the respective
movements. They were not difficult and for a girl of
Roberta’s natural grace and zest, easy. Once the music
started and Clyde drew her to him, she fell into the positions
and steps without effort, and they moved rhythmically and
instinctively together. It was the delightful sensation of
being held by him and guided here and there that so
appealed to her—the wonderful rhythm of his body
coinciding with hers.
“Oh, you darling,” he whispered. “Aren’t you the dandy little
dancer, though. You’ve caught on already. If you aren’t the
wonderful kid. I can hardly believe it.”
They went about the floor once more, then a third time,
before the music stopped and by the time it did, Roberta
was lost in a sense of delight such as had never come to
her before. To think she had been dancing! And it should
be so wonderful! And with Clyde! He was so slim, graceful—
quite the handsomest of any of the young men’ on the floor,
she thought. And he, in turn, was now thinking that never
had he known any one as sweet as Roberta. She was so
gay and winsome and yielding. She would not try to work
him for anything. And as for Sondra Finchley, well, she had
ignored him and he might as well dismiss her from his mind
—and yet even here, and with Roberta, he could not quite
forget her.
At five-thirty when the orchestrelle was silenced for lack of
customers and a sign reading “Next Concert 7.30” hung up,
they were still dancing. After that they went for an icecream
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417
soda, then for something to eat, and by then, so swiftly had
sped the time, it was necessary to take the very next car for
the depot at Fonda.
As they neared this terminal, both Clyde and Roberta were
full of schemes as to how they were to arrange for to-
morrow. For Roberta would be coming back then and if she
could arrange to leave her sister’s a little early Sunday he
could come over from Lycurgus to meet her. They could
linger around Fonda until eleven at least, when the last train
south from Homer was due. And pretending she had
arrived on that they could then, assuming there was no one
whom they knew on the Lycurgus car, journey to that city.
And as arranged so they met. And in the dark outlying
streets of that city, walked and talked and planned, and
Roberta told Clyde something—though not much—of her
home life at Biltz.
But the great thing, apart from their love for each other and
its immediate expression in kisses and embraces, was the
how and where of further contacts. They must find some
way, only, really, as Roberta saw it, she must be the one to
find the way, and that soon. For while Clyde was obviously
very impatient and eager to be with her as much as
possible, still he did not appear to be very ready with
suggestions—available ones.
But that, as she also saw, was not easy. For the possibility
of another visit to her sister in Homer or her parents in Biltz
was not even to be considered under a month. And apart
from them what other excuses were there? New friends at
the factory—the post-office—the library—the Y. W. C. A.—
all suggestions of Clyde’s at the moment. But these spelled
but an hour or two together at best, and Clyde was thinking
of other week-ends like this. And there were so few
remaining summer week-ends.
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418
Chapter 19
THE return of Roberta and Clyde, as well as their outing
together, was quite unobserved, as they thought. On the
car from Fonda they recognized no one. And at the
Newtons’ Grace was already in bed. She merely awakened
sufficiently to ask a few questions about the trip—and those
were casual and indifferent. How was Roberta’s sister? Had
she stayed all day in Homer or had she gone to Biltz or
Trippetts Mills? (Roberta explained that she had remained
at her sister’s.) She herself must be going up pretty soon to
see her parents at Trippetts Mills. Then she fell asleep.
But at dinner the next night the Misses Opal Feliss and
Olive Pope, who had been kept from the breakfast table by
a too late return from Fonda and the very region in which
Roberta had spent Saturday afternoon, now seated
themselves and at once, as Roberta entered, interjected a
few genial and well-meant but, in so far as Roberta was
concerned, decidedly troubling observations.
“Oh, there you are! Look who’s back from Starlight Park.
Howja like the dancing over there, Miss Alden? We saw
you, but you didn’t see us.” And before Roberta had time to
think what to reply, Miss Feliss had added: “We tried to get
your eye, but you couldn’t see any one but him, I guess. I’ll
say you dance swell.”
At once Roberta, who had never been on very intimate
terms with either of these girls and who had neither the
effrontery nor the wit to extricate herself from so swift and
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419
complete and so unexpected an exposure, flushed. She
was all but speechless and merely stared, bethinking her at
once that she had explained to Grace that she was at her
sister’s all day. And opposite sat Grace, looking directly at
her, her lips slightly parted as though she would exclaim:
“Well, of all things! And dancing! A man!” And at the head