She looked
about her, still maintaining that jubilance of look and manner
she felt so necessary--for it is to the girls who are "having a
good time" that partners are attracted--and, in order to lend
greater colour to her impersonation of a lively belle, she began
to chatter loudly, bringing into play an accompaniment of
frolicsome gesture. She brushed Walter's nose saucily with the
bunch of violets in her hand, tapped him on the shoulder, shook
her pretty forefinger in his face, flourished her arms, kept her
shoulders moving, and laughed continuously as she spoke.
"You NAUGHTY old Walter!" she cried. "AREN'T you ashamed to be
such a wonderful dancer and then only dance with your own little
sister! You could dance on the stage if you wanted to. Why, you
could made your FORTUNE that way! Why don't you? Wouldn't it be
just lovely to have all the rows and rows of people clapping
their hands and shouting, 'Hurrah! Hurrah, for Walter Adams!
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
He stood looking at her in stolid pity.
"Cut it out," he said. "You better be givin' some of these
berries the eye so they'll ask you to dance."
She was not to be so easily checked, and laughed loudly,
flourishing her violets in his face again. "You WOULD like it;
you know you would; you needn't pretend! Just think! A whole
big audience shouting, 'Hurrah! HURRAH! HUR----'"
"The place'll be pulled if you get any noisier," he interrupted,
not ungently.
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