"
"Oh!" said Cecil. "The next?"
"That's Mick Shanahan's," said Norah, laughing. "But you may have the
one after that if you like."
"I must be thankful for small mercies, I suppose," said he,
unthankfully.
"Won't you dance with any one else?"
"No, thanks, I don't care to." The tone was final.
"Well, I'm going to collar Sarah or die!" said Wally, manfully. "I'll
probably die, anyway, 'cause Fred has his eye on her. Still, here
goes!"
The musicians gave a preliminary blast, on which followed a shout from
the M.C.
"Select y'r partners for the lancers!"
At the word there was a general stampede. Youths who had been timid
before, grown bolder now, dashed towards the long row of girls. Where
more than one arrived simultaneously, there was no argument; the man
who failed to speak first shot off to find another damsel. In a moment
every available fair one had been secured firmly, and the dancers
awaited further commands.
Wally had not waited for permission from Mr. Boone. At the first sound
of the music he had darted towards Sarah, arriving beside the lady with
"the natural friz" a yard in front of Fred Anderson.
It was not etiquette to refuse to dance, and the fact that he was "the
Boss's" guest, if only a boy, carried weight. Sarah rose, with a rueful
glance at her disappointed swain.
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