ing to the Freshman's coat, was tumbled in a heap against a potted palm plant. The plant went crashing to the floor. So did Hertz. But in the excitement nobody paid any particular attention to the tailor or his fall.
Then Harold had Grace in his arms and they were out on the ballroom floor dancing. Jergens' Jazz Jongleurs were rendering their special version of "Freshie," a new collegiate fox trot. Around him were women's white shoulders. Slicked-up youths. Bright colors and lights. Joy unconfined.
On their second turn around the crowded floor, Harold noticed the anxious face of Morris Hertz peering out from behind a curtain that was part of the ballroom's decorations. One of the tables, on which refreshments would be served later, was located just in front of the curtain. From this Hertz had managed to secure the little push-bell used for summoning the waiter. He wiggled a hand to Harold, who caught sight of him from behind Grace's shoulder. Harold maneuvered his partner over toward Hertz's hiding place. Dancing deftly around in front of the curtain so that he was always within earshot of the concealed Hertz, the Freshman learned the reason for the tailor's signaling.
"If anything rips, I'll ring this bell," Hertz explained hoarsely.
