"Yes?" he said, quickly.

"You don't know my brother, Walter Adams," she said. "But he's
somewhere I think possibly he's in a smoking-room or some place
where girls aren't expected, and if you wouldn't think it too
much trouble to inquire----"

"I'll find him," Russell said, promptly. "Thank you so much for
that dance. I'll bring your brother in a moment."

It was to be a long moment, Alice decided, presently. Mrs.
Dresser had grown restive; and her nods and vague responses to
her young dependent's gaieties were as meager as they could well
be. Evidently the matron had no intention of appearing to her
world in the light of a chaperone for Alice Adams; and she
finally made this clear. With a word or two of excuse, breaking
into something Alice was saying, she rose and went to sit next to
Mildred's mother, who had become the nucleus of the cluster. So
Alice was left very much against the wall, with short stretches
of vacant chairs on each side of her. She had come to the end of
her picture-making, and could only pretend that there was
something amusing the matter with the arm of her chair.

She supposed that Mildred's Mr. Russell had forgotten Walter by
this time. "I'm not even an intimate enough friend of Mildred's
for him to have thought he ought to bother to tell me he couldn't
find him," she thought. And then she saw Russell coming across
the room toward her, with Walter beside him. She jumped up
gaily.