intended to be friendly, and then he led the girl away.
Tom had no partner for the march and he stood about disconsolately until the first dance. Then he went to claim his partner, whom Jerry Jackson had secured for him, a pretty little girl in a yellow dress who was a fine dancer.
"I wish you had another open date—I—er—I mean that you could give me another dance," he corrected himself quickly from the language of the ball field.
"I can," she said simply, and she gave him a quick glance, for Tom was a fine dancer.
He scribbled his name down and then had to relinquish her to another partner. Two dances after that, however, Tom was privileged to claim Miss Tyler. As he was leading her into the waltz Langridge came hurrying up.
"I thought this was my dance, Madge—Miss Tyler," he stammered.
"I wanted to vary the monotony," she said with a little laugh that had no malice in it.
"How is your arm, dominie?" she asked of Tom, looking up into his face and smiling as she gave him the nickname conferred on him by Langridge.
"Oh, much better," he answered. "How did you hear?"
"Oh, the proverbial bird, I suppose. You had
