Fred was not very fond of dancing; it was too hard work, he thought, and he was prudish enough not to fancy the way some girls had of “making a pillow out of a fellow’s arm or bosom,” as he had expressed it to some of his acquaintances who had rallied him for refusing to join in a waltz, and who enjoyed being made pillows for the heads of their fair partners. Now, however, he suddenly changed his mind. He wanted to dance, and be not only a pillow, but bolster, too, if necessary; and to what seemed like a challenge, although he knew it was not meant for that, he responded at once. “I will ask you now. What shall it be—round or square, or both?” “Oh, the two-step, if you know it,” she answered, with a laugh. “I could dance that forever. If you don’t like that, the lancers.” “We’ll have both,” Fred said, with a shiver, as he knew he might not be able to acquit himself creditably in the two-step, which he had never tried but once, and had then failed miserably. “But she will keep me going,” he thought, as he lifted her from the carriage and led her into the house. CHAPTER IX THE PARTY The most of the guests had arrived by this time, and the dressing-room was full when Louie entered it. Nearly all were strangers from out of town, and few paid any attention to her. Those who did glance at her saw a very pretty girl, whose bright face and eyes made them wonder who she was. In the midst of silks and satins and laces and diamonds and city-made toilets, Louie felt herself quite out of place, and was beginning to wish she had not come or could see some one she knew, when among the men in the room opposite she caught sight of Fred near the door, and felt sure he was waiting for her. Not till then had she realized how awkward it would be to go down to the drawingroom alone, and she felt a thrill of gratitude that she was not to be subjected to this ordeal. This gratitude was augmented with something like pride when she heard one of the city girls say in a low voice: “There’s Mr. Lansing talking to Rob. I wonder if he can be waiting for any one.” Instantly a dozen heads were turned in the direction where Fred stood, his fine face in profile, with a look upon it which most people called pride, but which really arose from his indifference to what was passing around him, and a half feeling of boredom that he was obliged to be a part of it. “Oh, is that Mr. Lansing?” “Isn’t he handsome?” “Isn’t he proud-looking?” “I hope I shall be introduced.” “They say he has two or three millions, and is the greatest catch in Washington, but does not care a straw for ladies.”