grown-up persons, a tall young man, called out, “Annie, half a mo,” and my protectress turned away, leaving me to make my own advances. I could do nothing. How could I ask this wretched girl to dance with me when I had never danced in my life? For an agonizing moment I stood there; then I stammered out something, turned on my heel abruptly, and walked away. It was dreadful. Before me I saw a conservatory, the door of which was open, and I escaped into it as my only refuge. I felt utterly miserable. It occurred to me to slip out quietly and go home, but to do that I should have to cross the room, and somebody would be sure to pounce upon me. Besides, what would the McAllisters think? The first dance had commenced, and I saw that my golden-haired maiden had found another partner. He happened to be one of the boys I knew, and I was certain she would tell him what I had done, and that everybody at school would get to know about it. In the midst of the dance the lady called Annie bore straight down upon me, having detected my hiding-place. But she did not seem angry; on the contrary, she was laughing. She threaded her way among the palms, while I felt my face becoming purple. “What do you mean by running away like that from the partners I choose for you?” she asked gaily. “Elsie told me you wouldn’t ask her to dance, and she says it’s my fault, that I made you come when you didn’t want to.” “I can’t dance,” I answered huskily. Nevertheless, Elsie’s explanation of my conduct, in spite of the fact that it redoubled its rudeness, gave me relief. The “Annie” lady looked at me, still laughing. Then she said very kindly, “Oh, don’t mind; it really doesn’t matter in the least. Come and dance with me.” “But I can’t,” I muttered, “I never tried in my life.” “Well, come and talk to me then, and we can watch the others.” She led me back into the room. She asked me all kinds of questions about myself, and very soon I was chattering away as if I had known her all my life. I had forgotten what an extremely small boy I had been only ten minutes ago, as I looked about me boldly, and gave “Annie” my opinion on all kinds of things. We talked of the opera, and when she told me she preferred the “Trovatore” to “Lohengrin” I thought her taste very crude. All the same I liked her. She laughed in a nice way, and was interested in everything you said to her. I pulled up my trousers a little so that my delicate silk socks should be more visible. As I glanced round the room I decided that I was much better dressed than anybody there, and this conviction increased my confidence. I would have liked to ask “Annie” what she thought of me from this point of view, but instead, she inquired if I was fond of reading. I replied in the affirmative, and she asked me if I had read “Tom Brown’s School-days.” I again said, “Yes,” and asked her if she had read “Anna Karénine.”