Chapter 7

The scene as Shirley and Dolly, escorted by George Weaver and Joe Hamilton, entered the dance hall of the Country Club, was one of so much gaiety that Shirley caught her breath. Her cousin Dolly, for the first time in a self-centered life, had devoted all her thoughts and efforts in the past weeks to perfecting a bright background for the occasion.

The room was long and about half as wide as it was long. Paper streamers in every hue of the rainbow hung from a central chandelier and were tacked firmly to the four walls near the ceiling. On one of the long sides of the room four French windows opened onto a paved terrace. Because the night was balmy even for June, the glass doors stood ajar, and on the terrace could be glimpsed the buffet tables that would be floodlit later on. Shirley saw that Aunt Jenny, who had left the house early, was already in full charge.

The ballroom also doubled as an amateur theater; the stage at one end now had the curtains drawn back, and drawings of the fifty different states showed colorful coats of arms. There were chairs against the walls for those who did not wish to dance, and against the wall opposite the stage a five-piece orchestra was grouped. Over all was a ripple of laughter as more than two hundred guests identified one another's costume.

Shirley was glad to see that she was the only Indian maiden present. Joe Hamilton apparently was the only coal miner. But George Weaver had his rivals in a woman dressed as a purple lilac, the state flower of New Hampshire, and a man dressed as a white birch, the state tree. There seemed to be almost a dozen costumes representing Vermont, the Green Mountain state, but no one looked as lovely as Dolly in her green chiffon robe and green wig.

As they entered the room they encountered such diverse characters as a mocking bird from the state of Florida, an Abraham Lincoln from Illinois, a giant peach from Georgia, and a grizzly bear from California. It was a bewildering array of color and imagination, and as the little group went around greeting old friends, they heard over and over again the thought expressed that Burrbridge should encourage more community affairs.

"Everybody knows the state I represent," George complained to Shirley. "They don't even ask me what kind of paint this is on my costume."

"Never mind," she consoled him. "You'll get a chance to tell them all about it later, George. I wonder where Tom and Dan can be. Perhaps they didn't mean to come at all."

"If they were just fooling us," Dolly said angrily, "I will think up some special form of torture for them. Oh," she said with a sudden gasp, "there they are!"

Shirley looked toward the big double doorway, and there indeed stood the two truckmen whom Aunt Jenny had once refused to have in her house. Tonight they were dazzling in sixteenth-century court costumes of the good Queen, Elizabeth I. Satin doublets in blue and gold with silken hose. On their heads were wide plumed hats. Both Dan and Tom took them off with sweeping gestures and bowed low to the ladies in the room. Above the stiff ruffs of Elizabethan times, the smiling faces of the two young men were eloquent of the fact that they had startled the crowd. Tom had even gone one step further; he had added a mustache that exactly matched his red hair.

"What state are they from?" Joe Hamilton asked.

"They're from Virginia," Dolly said slowly. "Now I remember-Virginia is the Cavalier State. My cavalier-how nice!" With a swift movement she started edging through the crowd in the direction of Tom Sanders. Shirley, glancing up, saw that Joe Hamilton's eyes were bleak.

But the next second, following a fanfare, the orchestra was giving instructions for forming the grand march. Joe Hamilton at once started after Dolly's green-clad figure, and when Shirley next saw them, they were leading the march with the two cavaliers directly behind them.

As the orchestra struck up a spirited march, Tom Sanders leaned down and picked up an edge of Dolly's flowing gown. Holding it as a page boy might hold a train, he marched solemnly around behind Dolly and her escort amid the laughter of the crowd. Jenny Winsted, watching from one of the open French windows, was thankful she had insisted that Dolly wear a heavy cloth-of-silver slip under her green chiffon costume. Nevertheless, her face was tinged with color and she fanned herself vigorously, if ineffectually, with a paper napkin.

Shortly after the prizes were awarded, the dancing began and George Weaver retired to the men's lounge to remove his costume. Shirley found herself dancing with Dan Hallbrook, who looked even more dashing when seen close up.

"You make a right pretty Indian maiden," Dan smiled down at her. "May I call you Minnehaha?"-"You may-ha ha," Shirley retorted. "But only because you are the Laughing Cavalier and so are entitled to have your fun."

Shirley saw Dolly and Joe Hamilton dancing by; Joe was talking furiously and even a little angrily. In the arms of a pseudo miner, Dolly's blonde beauty seemed particularly ethereal and remote. Shirley guessed she was pouting; Dolly would feel that because the theme of the dance had been her own idea, she should not have it spoiled by a sharp rebuke from Joe. Dolly probably knew, Shirley reflected, that she had been in the wrong to leave her escort's side and identify herself with the two truckmen. But that would not make her any the less resentful. It would, in fact, increase her annoyance. Dolly was like that.

Between dances Shirley slipped out to the terrace and asked Aunt Jenny if there was anything she could do to help. Her aunt thanked her, but assured her that everything was under control. Only two members of the executive committee were worth their salt, she added tartly. But they were all she needed and the buffet supper would be served promptly at ten-thirty. She had already phoned Mabel Jameson, Jenny explained further, and Dinky was sound asleep. Once the buffet supper began she would feel free to go back to the house and give Mrs. Jameson a chance to get a glimpse of the gaiety and fun.

Later, when Shirley was again dancing with Dan Hallbrook, she found his attention wandering. She knew that his eyes were darting here and there, as if seeking someone in the crowd.

"Looking for someone?" Shirley asked mischievously.

"For your precious cousin."

"Dolly's dancing with your precious partner, Tom Sanders," Shirley explained. "They make a very striking couple."

"I know they do," Dan said a little grimly. "That's why I'm worried that I don't see them now." With a sudden gesture he swung Shirley around and whisked her through the French doors and out onto the terrace. Shirley had hardly caught her breath before she was being walked at a rapid pace through the rose garden to the part that lay in semidarkness beyond reach of the ballroom lights. Once there Dan slowed down, and suddenly began to laugh in a boisterous and almost hysterical manner.

"That's the funniest thing I've heard all evening," he all but shouted. "I must remember to tell Tom that joke when I see him again."

Shirley came to a full stop, convinced that Dan had temporarily taken leave of his senses. She was not going to be led into the darkness by a madman!

"What in the world...." she began when suddenly she saw a movement under the rose arbor. A second later her cousin's costume gleamed eerily in the half-light, and she saw that the figure beside Dolly was that of Tom Sanders.

"Why didn't you bring a foghorn and a searchlight?" Tom demanded angrily of his friend. "You might as well be a bloodhound baying at the moon."

Dan appeared to take this as a great joke, too. But Shirley noticed that he soon had the four of them turned back toward the clubhouse. A second later they were within the lighted area, and then Shirley saw Aunt Jenny on the terrace, peering anxiously out into the rose garden. When Aunt Jenny caught sight of the two couples together, her expression of anxiety vanished and she darted away toward the club kitchen on one of her innumerable tasks.

"Thank you," Shirley whispered to Dan. "I wouldn't for the world have even the shadow of worry spoil Aunt Jenny's evening." For answer, he only touched her arm lightly as they all went back to the dance hall.

Dolly had plenty of competition for the attention of Tom Sanders. He did not seem to be merely wearing a costume, but actually to be a dashing cavalier-ready to spread his cloak for a queen to walk upon and equally ready with his sword to defend his lady's honor. In the dance immediately following their return to the ballroom, Dolly lost her escort almost immediately to some young and overly anxious girls.

Shirley saw the little scene, and saw, too, that Joe Hamilton immediately claimed her cousin. Shirley gave herself up to enjoying the evening. She did not lack for partners. In fact when George, having taken off his costume, appeared before her in his carefully planned evening attire, Shirley was almost surprised to see him.

"It's harder to get a dance with you than with a visiting princess," George complained. But he seemed very pleased at her popularity. It justified his good taste in asking to be her escort.

"But, George," Shirley protested, "you've been just as popular as I have. All the girls wanted to dance with you, and I just had to wait my turn."

George seemed immensely pleased at this remark from Shirley implying that he did have a fancied romantic nature. Poor George! He did so want to be thought of as a lover, she reflected. And yet his very qualities of dependability and attention to his work made him, in many ways, more desirable. She wished devoutly that she could come to love him as Aunt Jenny expected her to.

At that moment Dolly was saying in a hurt tone: "I just can't understand you, Joe Hamilton. You say you want me to go around with a 'keep-off sign hung around my neck. At the same time, I have not heard you asking me to set a marriage date."

"I'm asking you now," Joe said grimly.

"I don't answer that kind of a proposal," Dolly said, looking hurt. "You sound as if I were dragging you to the altar."

"I'm not asking any girl to marry me if she doesn't want to make it work. The way you've been carrying on with that truck driver all evening makes me doubt that you are ready to settle down. But if you are, say so. I just don't want anyone laughing behind my back after we are engaged."

Dolly considered this for a minute in silence. She looked out at the gay scene before her and seemed to be seriously thinking over Joe's ultimatum. Finally she turned toward him with a smile that was as bright and happy as if they had been discussing trivialities.

"Joe, you're all upset this evening. Let's talk about this another time. You know I've always liked you, but how can I tell if it's really true love? You must realize I haven't met many other men. As for Tom Sanders, you must remember that he is a guest in my mother's home and a stranger here in town. I thought it only my duty to be especially nice to him."

"That is your answer, then?" As he spoke, Joe got to his feet. Dolly was staring up at him in bewilderment. She continued to stare like a puzzled child as, with a curt nod, Joe turned on his heel and walked out of the Country Club. A second late. Tom Sanders stood before her and pulled her to her feet.

"What do you mean hiding out here alone in the reception room, leaving me to the mercies of all the local sirens?" he demanded with assumed gruffness. "You get back in here, young lady. The next dance is mine, all of it."

Dolly's silvery laugh tinkled as she allowed herself to be drawn toward the dance floor. She did not notice that Joe Hamilton, pausing for a moment in the doorway, heard it and turned around. Then, with an exclamation, he dashed off into the night.

Shirley, too, heard her cousin laugh as she came in from the terrace. It was after ten o'clock and she had been helping Aunt Jenny with last-minute preparations for the supper. She was sorry to see Dolly and Tom dancing together again; it did not seem that Joe's proposal had gone so well, after all. Just at that moment one of the club stewards touched her arm.

"Beg pardon, miss," he said diffidently. "There's a phone call for Mrs. Winsted."

"She's in the kitchen and terribly busy," Shirley told him. "I am her niece. Perhaps I can take a message."

She followed him to the bank of telephone booths in the hall and answered the phone he indicated.

"Jenny, is that you?" The voice was so high-pitched and hysterical that Shirley did not recognize it.

"Mrs. Winsted is very busy right now," Shirley explained. "I thought I might take a message and have her call you back a little bit later. I am Shirley Montgomery, Mrs. Winsted's niece."

For answer there was a deep sobbing that was evidently controlled with difficulty. Then, in a more natural voice, the caller said:

"Oh, Shirley, dear, I am so glad to hear your voice. Something dreadful-just dreadful-has happened. This is Mabel Jameson. When your aunt phoned me before, Dinky was sound asleep."

Shirley, thoroughly alarmed, demanded: "Mrs. Jameson, please pull yourself together. Tell me exactly what is wrong. Has Dinky been taken sick?"

"Dinky's gone!" A note of hysteria crept into Mabel Jameson's voice once more. "He's not anywhere in the house. I even looked in the cellar. You know that window in his room was open, and I'm afraid that Dinky's been kidnapped. He may even be dead! Oh, come as quickly as you can."

In a burst of wild weeping Mrs. Jameson broke the connection, and Shirley started on a run to find her Aunt Jenny.