“But she said she would dance it with me!” he flung back—­he did not mean to be defrauded.

“Really?” It was wonderful how soft St. George’s voice could be.  Teackle could not have handled a refractory patient the better.

“Well, that is,” rejoined Willits, modified by Temple’s tone—­“she is to let me know—­that was the bargain.”

Still another soft cadence crept into St. George’s voice:  “Well, even if she did say she would let you know, do be a little generous.  Miss Seymour is always so obliging; but she ought really to dance the reel with Harry to-night.”  He used Kate’s full name, but Willits’s head was buzzing too loudly for him to notice the delicately suggested rebuke.

“Well, I don’t see that, and I’m not going to see it, either.  Harry’s always coming in between us; he tried to get Miss Kate away from me a little while ago, but he didn’t succeed.”

“Noblesse oblige, my dear Mr. Willits,” rejoined St. George in a more positive tone.  “He is host, you know, and the ball is given to Miss Seymour, and Harry can do nothing else but be attentive.”  He felt like strangling the cub, but it was neither the time nor place—­nothing should disturb Kate’s triumph if he could help it.  One way was to keep Willits sober, and this he intended to do whether the young man liked it or not—­if he talked to him all night.

“But it is my dance,” Willits broke out.  “You ask him if it isn’t my dance—­he heard what Miss Kate said.  Here comes Harry now.”

Like a breath of west wind our young prince blew in, his face radiant, his eyes sparkling.  He had entirely forgotten the incident on the stairs in the rapture of Kate’s kisses, and Willits was once more one of the many guests he was ready to serve and be courteous to.

“Ah, gentlemen—­I hope you have everything you want!” he cried with a joyous wave of his hand.  “Where will I get an ice for Kate, Uncle George?  We are just about beginning the Virginia reel and she is so warm.  Oh, we have had such a lovely waltz!  Why are you fellows not dancing?  Send them in, Uncle George.”  He was brimming over with happiness.

Willits moved closer:  “What did you say?  The Virginia reel?  Has it begun?” His head was too muddled for quick thinking.

“Not yet, Willits, but it will right away—­everybody is on the floor now,” returned Harry, his eyes in search of something to hold Kate’s refreshment.

“Then it is my dance, Harry.  I thought the reel was to be just before supper or I would have hunted Miss Kate up.”

“So it is,” laughed Harry, catching up an empty plate from the serving table and moving to where the ices were spread.  “You ought to know, for you told her yourself.  It is about to begin.  They were taking their partners when I left.”

“Then that’s my reel,” Willits insisted.  “You heard what Miss Kate said, Harry—­that’s what I told you too, Mr. Temple,” and he turned to St. George for confirmation.