"Dearest Betty:

"What a shame you couldn't be here. I know it's mean to tell you, but you've really missed the funniest kind of a time.

"I do hope your mother is much better by now. Please give her both Lois' and my love.

"And now to tell you all about the dance—as I promised. So many things happened it's hard to know where to begin. The first day I guess—

"Well, we arrived at this adorable little town about ten o'clock in the morning, and I thought when I looked out of our window as the train pulled in, that I was dreaming and it was a story book village. The sun was shining and it was as warm as toast. I don't know why the fact that the grass was green made such an impression on me, but it did. We've had so much snow up home that I couldn't believe there could be summer anywhere else.

"Is this lengthy description boring you, Betty dear? What is it Miss Porter always says, 'Create your atmosphere first, before you begin your story.' That's what I'm doing and you'll just have to be patient while I create a little longer. I simply must tell you about the funny little cabins. They're all over the place. A relic from the days of slavery, I suppose, and they're so little—just a room or two—that you gasp when you see large families standing out in front of them. It's beyond me to figure out how they can all go to sleep at once.

"Lois suggests that they take turns and I think she must be right. The little pickaninnies are too sweet for words; they have innumerable little braids sticking out all over their heads, and their big black eyes just dance with impishness. You'd love them.

"Fanny lives in a most wonderful story book house. It's red brick that's really pink. Oh, you know what I mean! And it's trimmed with white. Big colonial pillars up the front, and a lot of little balconies jut out where you least expect them. I have one out of my window, and every night I play Juliet to an imaginary Romeo in the rose garden below. Lo insists I am getting sentimental, but it's only the effect of the 'Sunny South,' which brings me, no matter how indirectly, to the boys we've met—and the dance!

"Oh, Bet, such a lark! There were over a hundred people—both old and young, and even then the ballroom—oh, yes, the Gerards have a ballroom—looked half empty. We danced from ten o'clock until four in the morning, and went for a picnic the next day. Imagine!

"Fanny looked beautiful. She wore a lovely white dress without a touch of color on it, and it just set off her wonderful dark hair to perfection. The cousin, Caroline Gerard, is here at the house, too. You know, the one Fanny said could sing, and who 'just naturally gets ahead of her.' Well! Intermission of four minutes.

"No use, I've been struggling with my better self, but I can't resist the temptation to tell you just what Lo and I think of her. Betty, she's horrid. I mean it! She's so conceited and sure of herself and without the least reason to be. She looks a lot like Fanny, but with a difference. She's larger and much more definite, if you know what I mean, and she walks into a room with a 'Well, here I come' sort of an air. She completely puts Fanny in the background. I'll tell you later, how Lo and I pulled her out again—Fanny I mean—but now, I'll go back to the dance.

"Caroline was there of course. She wore a wonderful red gown and carried a big yellow ostrich fan. She looked like a Spanish dancer. It took me all evening to get used to her. The combination was rather startling. Lo, in spite of her dislike, wanted to paint her. I did not—jealousy, on my part of course—for every time she came near me, she killed my lovely green frock. You see, before I came down stairs, I looked in the glass and I rather fancied that I looked quite nice, but, I turned pale by comparison, and naturally I didn't like it. Are you getting curious about Lois? I hope so, I'm saving her on purpose for the end. Betty, she was the belle of the ball. You can't, no, not even with your imagination, picture her. She looked like some lovely fairy. But you know that dreamy style of hers. Well, just try and see her in your mind—draped in yards and yards of pale yellow chiffon, with touches of blue here and there,—and you'll understand the effect. Her gown was just nothing but graceful soft folds. I tell you everybody went quite mad about her, and you know how beautifully she dances.— Excuse me, that's the luncheon gong— I'll finish later.

"Hello, again Bet:

"It's late and I'm oh, so sleepy, but I must go on. Let's see where was I? Oh, yes, clothes. But poor dear you must feel as if you'd been reading a fashion book, so I'll skip the rest of the dresses, which really didn't amount to anything, and go on with the dance.

"Of course we met so many people that I can't even remember their names, but some of my dances stand out rather vividly in my mind. Do you know, Southern boys can say more pretty things in one minute than our boys up North can in a whole month. Don't think I consider it a virtue, far from it. I think they're awfully silly—on top. Of course underneath they're splendid—just like boys anywhere else—but certainly they are more fun to talk to.

"I danced the first dance with Fanny's 'Jack.' He's quite as handsome as she said and he came to the dance in his uniform. After the music had stopped we went out in the rose garden for a walk.

"Betty, what can a girl say, when a boy tells her she is fit company for roses and moonlight? If there is a proper answer, I certainly couldn't think of it at the time and I did the very last thing I should have done— I laughed—and I went on laughing as he waxed more eloquent. Finally I said:

"'Oh, for pity's sake, do stop and talk sense.' He looked as if he had never heard the word.

"'You're very hard to please,' he said in oh, such offended tones. 'What shall we talk about?'

"'Why not Fanny,' I suggested; 'she's the only subject we have in common, except flowers and birds and moonlight, and we seem to have exhausted those.'

"'But I'm very fond of Fanny!' he said quite feelingly. I told him I was too and that we ought to make the best of it. I explained how popular she was at school, and how she'd made the team, and raved at great length over her voice. And do you know what that boy did? When I stopped for breath he stood stock still in the middle of the path and looked at me, then he whistled.

"'Well, I'll be darned.' It was the first natural thing I'd heard him say. 'I never met a girl before in all my life that would talk that way about even her best friend,' he said.

"The music started then, and we had to hurry back—but, Bet, what do you suppose he meant?

"Lois evidently had much the same trouble understanding her partners. I heard her say—'how absurd' during supper, and it sounded so like you that I was startled for a second.

"Oh dear, I almost forgot to tell you the funniest thing that happened through the whole evening. Poor Fanny, being hostess, had to dance with all the clumsy, unattractive boys that were there, and every time I saw her, she seemed to be having a dreadful time of it. I think it was the eighth dance and I was sitting out with a boy named Wilfred Grey—the one Caroline cut Fanny out with, you remember? I was arguing with him about clothes—he said he preferred bright colors, and I insisted there was nothing as lovely as white. Of course we both knew he really meant Caroline, and Fanny. Well anyway, in the middle of the dance—we were in a sort of a little alcove—Fanny came by pulling a big, lanky youth after her. I never saw anything so funny; he was just walking, and making no kind of an effort to keep to the music. Mr. Grey and I laughed about it, and when they came around again, we were watching for them. Imagine our joy when they stopped just beside us, and we heard Fanny say, in that killing way of hers:

"'Look here, Sam Ramsby, if you'll get on my feet and stay there, I'll tote you around this room, but this jumping on and off is more than I can stand.' Betty, wasn't that rare—it was the best minute of the whole evening. Lo is furious that she missed it.

"Mercy! It's twelve o'clock and I must go to bed. Lo is going to add a P.S. to-morrow. Please appreciate this long letter as I've really spent much valuable time over it.

"Hello, Bet:

"I've just read Polly's scrawl, and I must really smile. If Caroline's dress made hers look pale you may believe it was at long range, for I never saw Poll the entire evening that she wasn't completely surrounded and hidden from view by a flock of dress suits. Wait until you see the green dress and you'll understand why.

"Polly says she promised to tell you about Fanny's triumph and forgot to. Personally, I'm glad she left me something easy. I know it will amuse you. It happened the first night we got here. There were a lot of Fanny's friends at dinner and in the evening we played games and Caroline sang. Poll has described her, but not her voice. It's one of those big throaty ones that quaver, and she sings the most dramatic of love songs. I hated it, it was so affected. Well of course, everybody raved about it and complimented her and asked for more. They didn't really want it, but Caroline has a way of insisting upon the center of the stage.

"She didn't stop until everybody was thoroughly tired of her and of music generally. Then Polly surprised every one by saying quite calmly: 'Fanny I wish you'd sing for us now.' Caroline couldn't understand. 'Why, Fanny can't sing,' she said. I don't think she meant to, but it was out before she could stop it. I was cross.

"'Oh, yes, she can,' I told her, 'the girls at school are crazy about her voice. Sing that pretty French song Fanny.' Poll joined in and we teased so hard that she finally did sing.

"Bet, I do wish you could have seen those people, they were overcome with astonishment. They were so used to Caroline talking of nothing but her voice that they had never thought of Fanny. But after that first song, I thought they would never let her stop. There, that's the story. Caroline hasn't been asked to sing since and Polly and I are mean enough to be just as pleased as punch. I must stop this instant. We'll see you next week at good old Seddon Hall. In the meantime, loads of love. I won't be sorry to get back. How about you?