  The home of the Dorchesters was brilliantly lighted and the little hostess Peggy, who represented a rose fairy, was exquisitely gowned in filmy pink. Her small black mask hung over her shoulder and she was arranging a huge basket of apple blossom sprays in the library when Phyllis, looking like a very lovely May Queen, entered the room. Peggy whirled around and holding out both hands, she kissed her cousin impulsively as she exclaimed: “Oh, I’m so glad that you could come. It’s just ages since I saw you last, and ever so many things have happened. Tomorrow morning we’ll have a talkfast and gossip for hours, but do tell me who is the room-mate that you asked if you might bring. I just saw her a minute as you came in, but I thought that she was very beautiful, dark like a Spanish of French girl, isn’t she?” Then, without waiting for an answer, impetuous Peggy hurried on as a new thought presented itself. “Phyllis you never could guess who is coming tonight. One of our boy cousins whom we haven’t seen in just ever so long, but there, I ought not to be calling him a boy, he’s so big and good-looking? His mother is staying with us and she talks about her wonderful son all of the time. She plans to have him make a most eligible marriage, but he doesn’t seem to care for girls at all. Oh, here comes your friend! Isn’t that gypsy costume fascinating?” Nan Barrington was presented to the little hostess and to her mother, who appeared at that moment to assist in receiving, and then the guests began to arrive. Phyllis and Nan retreated to a seat beneath a bank of palms and not far from the hidden musicians. They had on their masks and Nan, who had never before attended a real party of any kind, was interested in all that she saw. Suddenly she caught her friend’s hand as she said softly, “Phyllis, will you look at the young man who is just entering! Who do you suppose he is?” “Why, he has on a gypsy costume! That’s rather strange, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be amusing, Nan, if he should ask you to dance? There are to be no personal introductions, you know. Only close friends of Aunt Lucy’s and Peg’s are invited, and so, of course, that in itself is sufficient introduction.” While Phyllis had been talking a youth dressed as a knight had approached and asked her to join the promenade with him, and so, for a moment Nan was left alone. She did not mind and she sat smiling as she thought how like a play it all was when suddenly she heard someone saying, “Lady Gypsy, will you promenade with me?” Nan sprang to her feet and held out both hands impulsively: “Robert!” she said. “I thought of you the moment that I saw that costume but it isn’t the one that you wore so long ago and I never dreamed that it could be you, but your voice—I’m not mistaken in it, am I?” For answer the lad tore off his mask and looked down at the girl with an expression of radiant joy. “Lady Red Bird,” the lad exclaimed as he led her back of the sheltering palms, “for three years I have tried and tried to find you. Did you think that I had broken the promise that I made to you high on the mountain? Indeed I have not, and I never will break it. Please remove your mask. I want to know what my sister-comrade looks like after all these years.” “Robert, I wish to speak with you.” It was the voice of his mother calling softly from an open door near. The lad although deploring the interruption, was too courteous to not heed his mother’s request. Hurriedly he said: “I will be back directly. I have so much to tell you and so very, very much that I want to learn about you.” He was leading the gypsy girl back to her seat beneath the palm. When he was gone Nan suddenly remembered that in her surprise and joy at finding her old-time comrade she had completely forgotten the promise that she had made his mother three years before on Thanksgiving day. Mrs. Widdemere had then forbidden Robert to ever again speak to the gypsy girl, but before the indignant lad had time to reply, it was Nan who had said: “You need not be troubled, Mrs. Widdemere, for I shall never again speak to one of your kind.” Unconsciously she had broken that promise many times, for was not her dearly loved room-mate this woman’s niece? Too, even now she had been speaking to her son. Rising, she decided that she must go away somewhere and think what would be the honorable thing for her to do, Just then she saw Phyllis approaching with her partner and, hurrying toward them, she said, “Phyllis, may I speak with you alone for a moment?” Her friend, excusing herself, led the way into a small reception room and closed the door. “What is it, Nan? You look as though something very unusual had happened.” The gypsy girl’s cheeks were burning and it was plainly evident that she was much excited. “Phyllis,” she said hurriedly, “don’t ask me to explain now. Please help me to get away at once. Can’t I call a taxi and go to Aunt Dahlia? Something has happened and I will tell you all about it to-morrow. Don’t worry dear, but I must go.” Phyllis believing that her dearest friend was about to be seriously ill, hastened to comply with her wishes. First she explained this fear to Peggy’s mother, who at once called their chauffeur and directed him to take Nan to the Barrington residence. It was not late and Miss Barrington and her younger sister. Miss Dahlia, were seated in the library reading when the girl entered. They were indeed surprised, for Nan had called on them not two hours before when she had first arrived in town. “Dearie,” Miss Dahlia exclaimed, rising and going toward the girl with outstretched hands “what is it? Are you ill?” “No, not ill, but troubled in spirit,” Nan said with a forlorn little laugh. Then she sat on a stool near the two old ladies and told all that had happened. Miss Ursula drew herself up proudly as she said, “Sister Dahlia, why did you not tell me this before? I did not know that Anne had been so humiliated. I shall certainly inform Mrs. Widdemere that a girl whom the Barringtons are proud to adopt as their own is quite worthy to be her son’s companion. Anne, if you wish I will return with you to the party. Mrs. Dorchester and I were school-mates long ago.” “No, thank you,” Nan replied rather wistfully, “I would rather not go back.” Meanwhile Robert, having left his mother, who merely wished to introduce him to an heiress, returned to find the seat beneath the palms unoccupied. Nan was gone and though he stood with folded arms and watched the passing dancers, he did not see her. At last he sought the little hostess and inquired what had become of the guest disguised as a gypsy. |
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