CHAPTER V

WITHOUT GLOVES

"O Jane, the big porch is all shut in with white stuff, and there's a striped awning where the carriages stop, just as if it was a great grown-up party or a wedding. And I saw them carrying in loads of palms and things. Oh, are n't you excited to be going?"

This was Nancy Bell, flying into the front room upstairs, where Mrs. Bell and Jane were putting the finishing touches to Jane's frock, to be worn that evening.

"Awfully excited, darling," admitted Jane, smiling at the eager little sister.

"Oh, how pretty that is!" Nancy clasped her hands in ecstasy over the dainty ruffled skirt, with its tiny yellow flowers scattered over a white ground. Then she caught up the long sash belt of primrose-yellow ribbon, its graceful rosettes and flowing ends promising an effective finish to the simple toilet. "You 'll be the prettiest girl at the party!" she declared, joyously.

Mrs. Bell and Jane laughed across at each other. "In a ten-cent dimity," their eyes said, with congratulations, "reduced from eighteen!"

"My ribbon is what rejoices my soul," said Jane, touching the soft silk. "That was a bargain we just happened on--the price cut in two because of a few soiled places. We simply did n't use those at all, and there were enough long lengths to make the streamers. It's such a beautiful quality it makes the whole dress look finer than it is."

"How can you ever wait till evening?" sighed Nancy. "O Jane, Shirley wants me to hide in the shrubbery over there by the hedge, and she's going to slip out with some ice-cream and cake for me!"

Mrs. Bell's eyes and Jane's met again with a smile. Jane's eyebrows went up in interrogation. Mrs. Bell nodded. "I think Nancy may have that much of the party," she said.

Evening came at last, although Nancy had moments of feeling sure that it never would. Jane, her curly auburn locks tied up in charming fashion, with various rebellious tendrils waving about her face, slipped into the pretty frock, and Mrs. Bell arranged the primrose girdle, which set off the whole effect. Peter, in his best black suit and wearing the new cravat, looked at his sister approvingly.

"My, but I 'm proud of my girl!" he said.

"Not prouder than I am of my big brother," responded Jane.

The family saw them off, rejoicing in their youthful good looks, and sure they would hold their own in appearance with anybody in Worthington Square. Peter and Jane, not feeling quite so confident, yet experiencing a pleasant stir of anticipation, walked slowly round the corner.

Nearly all the guests were arriving in carriages, and the brother and sister, as they crossed the porch, encountered a number of these, entering from the _porte-cochere_. As Jane's eyes fell upon the gaily dressed young people, the first thing she observed about them gave her an unpleasant shock. They all, youths and girls, were wearing gloves. Jane glanced from her own round white arms, bare from the elbows, to Peter's uncovered hands.

"Peter, we never once thought of gloves," she murmured in his ear, as they lingered to let the party from the carriages go in at the door ahead of them.

Peter stared from her to the other guests. Then his gay twinkle replaced the look of dismay. "Gloves--on youngsters like us! Don't you care a bit," he whispered back in her ear.

It was a little difficult not to care, especially for Jane, as in the dressing-room upstairs she met many curious glances. The maid in charge even offered to help her put on her gloves, and Jane could not help feeling a bit unhappy as she replied that she was not wearing gloves.

But the sight of Peter, smiling serenely at her from the head of the staircase, where he awaited her, strengthened her resolution not to mind. A glance at the mirror had assured her that the inexpensive little dimity with its primrose ribbons was irreproachable in its dainty distinction of style--thanks to Mrs. Bell's clever fingers--and this knowledge was very comforting. Her face was as bright as ever when she joined Peter, whose hearty whisper: "You 're all right!" put her quite on her feet again.

Downstairs, where Olive Townsend stood receiving with her mother, with Forrest and Murray close at hand, a brief but interesting colloquy took place just before Jane and Peter came into the reception room. Forrest had been keeping sharp watch on the hall entrance, and the moment that he saw the two Bells arrive and make their way toward the staircase, he watched for a chance to get a word in the ears of his family. A lull in the arrivals gave him his opportunity.

"Olive," he said coolly to his sister in an undertone, "I took the liberty of sending Jane and Peter Bell an invitation--and they 're here. I want you to brace up and give them just as nice a welcome as you 're giving the rest. Hold on! If you 're angry at anybody, it's at me, and you 've no right to take it out of them for that. One thing I can tell you; if you are frosty to them you 'll settle with me afterward."

He had his sister in a corner--so to speak. Olive cared very much for appearances. There were many eyes upon her; she could make no angry response or show chagrin in any way without attracting notice and comment. All she could do--which she promptly did--was to whisper back, with lips which smiled for the sake of those who looked at her:

"You wretch, I 'll pay you off--never fear!"

"Do; I don't mind," and Forrest approached his mother. He was her favourite son, and she was a thorough woman of the world. He had reckoned on her making the best of the situation; and when he had told her, with a gay glance and a furtive squeeze of her hand, he received no more severe threat of punishment than he had expected in her light: "You naughty boy! You 'll have to take care of them; nobody else knows them, or will care to."

"I'll see to them," was her son's careless reply, and he crossed over to Murray, who was indifferently playing his part of young host. To him, as Jane and Peter appeared at the doorway, Forrest made a hasty explanation.

Murray's face instantly brightened, and he answered promptly: "It was a risky thing to do, but I 'm glad they 're here. Between us we 'll make sure they have a good time."

There was nothing in the greeting of Mrs. Townsend or of Olive to give Peter and Jane a hint of their position. The Bells had expected only a formal reception on an occasion like this, and when they received it, felt no special lack. And whatever was wanting in the greeting of the hostesses was made up by the masculine half of the receiving party.

"This is jolly," said Forrest, giving each a hearty grasp of the hand. "'I 'm immensely glad you could come," and as others pressed toward him, he passed them on to Murray.

"Do you know," said Murray, "having you two come to-night makes up to me for the whole thing. I detest parties, as a rule, never go to them, and would n't come downstairs at our own affairs if I could get out of it. But I 'm glad I could n't--this time--. See here, you don't know many of these people, do you?"

"Nobody at all."

"Of course not--having only just moved into the neighbourhood. I can't do much myself except sit about and look on, and I 'm going to be so bold as to beg your company, Miss Bell, for so much of the evening as you 'll give me. There are a lot of pleasant nooks about the rooms and halls, and I 'd like to try them all with you. That's a selfish plan, is n't it?" and he smiled at her.

"It's lovely of you, of course, and you know it," she answered.

"It's a risk for me, lest I lose you, but I 'll present a few of these chaps to you, first, so if you care to dance----"

"I don't--truly."

"I 'm glad. But I 'll do it, for the sake of my conscience," and Murray began the task on the spot.

Half a dozen youths accordingly bowed ceremoniously to Jane, gazed with interest at her charming face, said something or other in the way of an attempt at conversation, and got away again. Not one asked Jane to dance.

"She needs Olive's guardianship, not mine," thought Murray, resentfully. "If Olive backed her up, the rest would accept her in a jiffy. But Olive won't do it--I know that well enough,--so I 'll do my best in my way, and thank my stars for the chance. There is n't a girl in the house to match her, that's sure."

The moment that his duties in the reception-room were over Murray convoyed Jane away to one of the attractive retreats he had mentioned, a beflowered nook on the staircase landing, from which they could view the hall below, and see the greater part of the long drawing-room, where the dancing had begun. Strains of gay music from the orchestra floated pleasantly up to them.

"Now this is something like!" said Murray, sinking back upon the soft divan behind the palms. He pulled off his gloves as he spoke, rolled them into a ball and crammed them into his pocket. He did not put them on again that evening--a bit of kindliness which two guests understood and appreciated.

"If I 'm not monopolising the host when he ought to be looking after his other guests," replied Jane, as her eyes followed the distant dancers.

"If there is any monopoly, I 'm the guilty one--and enjoying my guilt. Honestly, Miss Bell, it's a fine chance for me to get acquainted with my neighbour, if she 'll let me. And as for my being missed--" A shake of the head told Jane more than its owner meant of his loneliness, at which she had hitherto only guessed.

Meanwhile, Peter had also fallen into friendly hands, if youthful ones. Shirley, allowed to play a modest part in the affairs of the evening, but finding nobody willing to give her more than a smile and nod, fell upon Peter as a possible ally. He had been standing at one side of the crush, in the doorway of the drawing-room, looking on with interested eyes, but feeling a trifle deserted, nevertheless, when he felt a warm little hand slide into his own. Looking down, surprised, he met Shirley's friendly smile.

"You don't know many people, do you?" asked that frank young person.

"I don't know anybody," returned Peter. "No, I ought not to say that, for your brother Forrest presented me to a number of girls. But I don't know how to dance, and they soon left me for livelier company."

"'Nobody asks me to dance, either," said Shirley, "because Olive would n't invite any boys of my age, and the big ones want the big girls."

"I don't," Peter assured her. "I want one about thirteen years old, dressed in a jolly white lacy frock, with pink ribbons and pink slippers. I feel more at home with a girl like that than with any of those I was introduced to. You see, their hair was so--done up!"

"Done up! Was n't your sister's hair done up?" queried Shirley. "Oh no, I remember! Those lovely thick curls of hers were tied in a bunch at her neck--such a lovely way; none of the others do theirs like that. She 's awfully pretty, is n't she? Prettier than Olive, I think."

"I admire my sister very much," agreed Peter, "but it would be hard for anybody to be prettier than your sister."

His eyes turned to Olive as he spoke. She stood near by, exchanging gay talk with a tall youth in the interval between dances. More beautifully dressed than any young girl he had ever seen, her dark face lighted into brilliancy by excitement, the rare colour in her cheeks set off by the big bunch of red roses she carried, she was a picturesque figure indeed.

"Yes, Olive does look pretty," admitted Olive's little sister. "Excuse me a minute, please," she added, and slipped over to Olive's side. If Peter could have heard the brief whispered conversation exchanged, he would hardly have dared to stand watching it, as he did.

"Olive," begged Shirley, when with difficulty she had secured her sister's reluctant attention, "if I take care of Peter Bell for a while, won't you be nice to him? He does n't dance, and he does n't know anybody----"

"It's enough that he 's here!" retorted Olive, with a frown. "I didn't ask him or his sister, so I----"

"You did n't ask him?"

"No, no--run along!

"But who----"

"Forrest--without saying a word to me."

"Oh!" Shirley gasped, and was silent for a minute. Then she pulled at Olive's arm again.

"Olive, but they 're our guests just the same, and----"

"Shirley, don't bother me now!"

"Listen, Olive, just a minute. Peter says nobody could be prettier than you."

It was a shot which told. Olive's grudging attention was arrested. She glanced over her sister's head, in the direction of Peter. Her eyes met his, and she turned away again, but not before the momentary vision of the strong, intent face had impressed itself upon her as rather better worth consideration than many of the others.

The thought of such a compliment as Shirley had reported coming from those firm-set lips of Peter Bell gave the recipient rather a novel sensation.

Olive had been out of patience with Peter from the moment that she caught sight of his unconventional attire, but she felt all at once more tolerant of his presence. "He did n't tell you to tell me that, I suppose?" she whispered to Shirley.

"Oh, no, I only----"

"Go back, and tell him to save some time for me after this dance. I 'll keep the next one for him."

"But, Olive, you know he does n't dance----"

"I'll sit it out with him, since he doesn't know enough to come and ask me for himself."

Half an hour later Jane, passing through the hall with Murray, on the way to the library, where he was to show her certain books of which they had been talking, caught sight of her brother just mounting the staircase to the retreat on the landing. To her surprise and relief--for she had anxiously looked for him from time to time, and had seen him with nobody but little Shirley--she noted that he was now in the company of his girlish hostess, and that that young person was turning upon him a gracious face.

To Jane the remainder of the evening passed in full pleasure. She spent an interesting hour in the library with Murray, who made himself a delightful companion, expanding in the sympathetic atmosphere of her good comradeship into a more genial warmth and sincerity of manner than she had imagined him capable of showing. Then Forrest came in search of her, and bore her away to join a company of young people who were going to supper together.

Under Forrest's wing she found her position secure, for he was a much-admired youth, and whatsoever girl he chose to favour must--as he had known--be treated with friendliness by all his companions. Jane's own charms came to her aid also, and brought several unattached young gentlemen to her side, so that before the evening was over she had made what Forrest inwardly congratulated himself upon as "a respectable success."

Upon the landing Peter established Olive and himself on the divan among the palms. He studied his companion's face a moment, then said abruptly, "I want to tell you, Miss Townsend, that I 'm more than sorry to be here by an accident."

She looked up at him, startled, but met only a quiet smile. "How did you--I didn't mean you----"

"I know you did n't--and you were very kind not to show how you must have felt. Perhaps it would be in better taste for me not to mention it at all. But I wanted you to know that I appreciated your courtesy in accepting the situation."

"But how----"

"I found out--from a little slip of Miss Shirley's. I wanted to go home, of course, but--I could n't make up my mind to spoil my sister's evening, and besides--I thought your brother's invitation made it right for us to be here."

Olive's dark face was colouring warmly. She looked down at her roses, wondering what to say. Somehow she found herself unwilling to let Peter Bell think she did n't want him at her party, for it was becoming clear to her that she did.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "But I'm very glad you did n't go home. If I had known you longer I 'm sure I should have invited----"

"Don't bother to explain," urged Peter's low voice. "'I did n't tell you to make you uncomfortable. Perhaps you won't mind my saying that looking on at this sort of thing is very interesting to me. I 've never seen it before."

"How do you like it?" asked Olive, glancing up at him curiously.

Peter laughed, looking off for a moment toward the drawing-room. "I 'm an outdoor sort of chap, I think," he said. "Yet it's very pretty, all that down there, and I like to look at it. Miss Townsend, do you ride horseback much?"

"Sometimes--not often. I don't care for it."

"Neither should I, down the boulevard or in the park, but out on a country road. I 'm a country boy, and I like a good gallop down the old Northboro Road--miles of it as smooth as a floor. As for cross-country--ah, there's sport!"

"I 've never seen you ride."

Peter's face changed. "No, I don't ride now," he said.

"But you have Saturday afternoons free?"

"Oh, yes."

"There are three saddle-horses in the stable," said Olive, making a sudden resolve, "and only one of them gets much use. Would you--care to take me for a gallop down the Northboro Road some day?"

That she should make such a proposition as this would have seemed to Olive Townsend but an hour before preposterous. But now, looking up at the sturdy figure before her, noting the wistful smile with which Peter had spoken of past experiences, it had come to her all at once that a new pleasure might be hers. She saw plainly that she should not be ashamed of Peter as an escort anywhere.

Peter stared at his hostess for a moment as if he could hardly believe that he had heard aright. "Do you really mean that, Miss Townsend?" he asked.

"Indeed I do. I 'm not in the habit of saying things I don't mean."

"Then, thank you, I should like it immensely," he said, with a smile and bow, more attractive, Olive admitted to herself, than any she had received that evening.