"We never had ice cream before at a church sociable," said Fanny.
"And I didn't know Mrs. Solomon Black had so many lanterns. Did you
buy all this?"

Her gesture seemed to include the shaded lamps, the masses of flowers
and trailing vines, the gay strains of music, and the plentiful
refreshments which nearly every one was enjoying.

"It's just like a regular party," she added. "We're not used to such
things in Brookville."

"Do you like it?" Lydia asked, doubtfully.

"Why, of course," returned Fanny, the color rising swiftly to her
face.

She had caught a glimpse of Wesley Elliot edging his way past a group
of the younger boys and girls, mad with the revelry of unlimited cake
and ice cream. He was coming directly toward their corner; his eyes,
alas! fixed upon the stranger in their midst. Unconsciously Fanny
sighed deeply; the corners of her smiling lips drooped. She appeared
all at once like a lovely rose which some one has worn for an hour
and cast aside.

"It's such a little thing to do," murmured Lydia.

Then, before Fanny was aware of her intention, she had slipped away.
At the same moment Judge Fulsom made his appearance, elbowing his
smiling way through the crowd, a brimming saucer of vari-colored ice