“That’s what’s upsetting us so!”
the fat man exclaimed. “You keep on going
there! Just when we’ve decided you must
be there, at last, here you come, going there
again. Well, don’t let me detain you.
But if you do decide to go in, some time, Noble, I’m
afraid you aren’t going to be able to do much
dancing.”
Noble, who had begun to walk on, halted in sudden
panic. Did this sinister fear of Mr. Atwater’s
mean that, as an uncle, he had heard Julia was suddenly
ill?
“Why won’t I?” he asked quickly.
“Is anything——”
“Your poor feet!” said Mr. Atwater, withdrawing.
“Good-night, Noble.”
The youth went on, somewhat disturbed; it seemed to
him that this uncle, though Julia’s, was either
going queer in the head or had chosen a poor occasion
to be facetious. Next time, probably, it would
be better to walk round the block below this.
But it was no longer advisable to walk round any block.
When he came to the happy gateway, the tuning of instruments
and a fanfare of voices sounded from within the house;
girls in light wraps were fluttering through the hall
with young men; it was “time for the party!”
And Noble went in.
Throughout the accomplishment of the entrance he made,
his outside and his inside were directly contradictory.
His inside was almost fluttering: there might
have been a nest of nervous young birds in his chest;
but as he went upstairs to the “gentlemen’s
dressing-room,” to leave his hat and stick,
this flopping and scrambling within him was never
to be guessed from his outside. His outside was
unsympathetic, even stately; he greeted his fellow
guests with negligent hauteur, while his glance seemed
to say: “Only peasantry here!”
The stairway was crowded as he descended; and as he
looked down upon the heads and shoulders of the throng
below, in Julia’s hall, the thought came to
him that since he had the first and last dances and
supper engaged with Julia, the hostess, this was almost
the next thing to being the host. It was a pleasing
thought, and a slight graciousness now flavoured his
salutations.
At the foot of the stairs he became part of the file
of young people who were moving into one of the large
rooms where Julia stood to “receive.”
And then, between two heads before him, he caught a
first glimpse of her;—and all the young
birds fluttering in his chest burst into song; his
heart fainted, his head ballooned, his feet seemed
to dangle from him at the ends of two strings.
There glowed sapphire-eyed Julia; never had she been
prettier.
The group closed, shutting out the vision, and he
found himself able to dry his brow and get back his
breath before moving forward in a cold and aristocratic
attitude. Then he became incapable of any attitude—he
was before her, and she greeted him. A buzzing
of the universe confused him: he would have stood
forever, but pressure from behind pushed him on; and
so, enveloped in a scented cloud, he passed into a
corner. He tried to remember what he had said
to her, but could not; perhaps it would have discouraged
him to know that all he had said was, “Well!”
