It was there that Elizabeth found him. She had forgotten her
displeasure at David, and was wildly happy; but she had missed
Blair, and had come, in a dancing whirl of excitement, to find
him. "What are you doing? Come right back to the parlor!"

Blair, turning, saw the smooth cheek, pink as the curve of a
shell, the soft hair's bronze sheen, the amber darkness of the
happy eyes. "Oh, Elizabeth!" he said, and actually sobbed.

"Blair! What _is_ the matter?"

"It was disgusting, the whole thing."

"What was disgusting?"

"That awful dinner--"

"Awful? You are perfectly crazy! It was lovely! What are you
talking about?" In her dismayed defense of her first social
function, she put her hands on his arm and shook it. "Why! It is
the first dinner I ever went to in all my life; and look: six-
button gloves! What do you think of that? Uncle told Cherry-pie I
could have whatever was proper, and I got these lovely gloves.
They are awfully fashionable!" She pulled one glove up, not only
to get its utmost length, but also to cover that scar which her
fierce little teeth had made so long ago. "Oh, Blair, it really
was a perfectly _beautiful_ dinner," she said, earnestly.

She was so close to him that it seemed as if the color on her