Mr. Sinclair, or as he preferred to be called, Professor Sinclair, waved a white kid glove in the direction of the dancing hall.
"This way, ladies and gentlemen!" he announced. "A beautiful valse just about to commence. Tickets, if you please! Ah! Glad to see you, Miss Cullingham!
You'll find--a friend of yours inside!"
There was a good deal of giggling as the girls came out from the little dressing room and joined their waiting escorts, who stood in a line against the wall, mostly struggling with refractory gloves. Mr. Sinclair, proprietor of the West Islington Dancing Academy, and host of these little gatherings--for a consideration of eighteenpence--did his best, by a running fire of conversation, to set everyone at their ease. He wore a somewhat rusty frock coat, black trousers, a white dress waistcoat, and a red tie. Evening dress was not DE RIGUEUR! The money at the door, and that everyone should behave as ladies and gentlemen, were the only things insisted upon.
Mr. Sinclair's best smile and most correct bow was suddenly in evidence.
"Mademoiselle Violet!" he exclaimed to a lady who came in alone, "we are enchanted. We feared that you had deserted us. There is a young gentleman inside who is going to be made very happy. One shilling change, thank you.
Won't you step into the cloak room?"
The lady shook her head.
"If you don't mind, Mr. Sinclair," she said, "I would rather keep my hat and veil on. I can only stay for a few minutes. Is Mr. Richardson here, do you know? Ah! I can see him."She stepped past the Professor into the little dancing hall. A young lady was pounding upon a piano, a boy at her side was playing the violin. A few couples were dancing, but most of the company was looking on. The evening was young, and Mr. Sinclair, who later on officiated as M.C., had not yet made his attack upon the general shyness. The lady known as Mademoiselle Violet paused and looked around her. Suddenly she caught sight of a pale, anemic-looking youth, who was standing apart from the others, lounging against the wall. She moved rapidly towards him.
"How do you do, Mr. Richardson?" she said, holding out her hand.
He started, and a sudden rush of color streamed into his cheeks. He took her hand awkwardly, and he was almost speechless with nervousness.
"I don't believe you're at all glad to see me!" she remarked.
"Oh! Miss Violet!" he exclaimed. He would have said more, but the words stuck in his throat.
"Can we sit down somewhere?" she said. "I want to talk to you."There were one or two chairs placed behind a red drugget curtain, where adventurous spirits led their partners later in the evening. They found a place there, and the young man recovered his power of speech.
"Not glad to see you!" he exclaimed almost vehemently. "Why, what else do you suppose I come here for every Thursday evening? I never dance; they all make game of me because they know I come here on the chance of seeing you again.
I'm a fool! I know that! You just amuse yourself here with me, and then you go away, back to your friends--and forget! And I hang about round here, like the silly ass that I am!""My dear--George!"
The young man blushed at the sound of his Christian name. He was mollified despite himself.
"I suppose it's got to be the same thing all over again," he declared resignedly. "You'll talk to me and let me be near you--and make a fool of me all round; and then you'll go away, and heaven knows when I'll see you again.
You won't let me take you home, and won't tell me where you live, or who your friends are. You do treat me precious badly, Miss Violet.""This time," she said quietly, "it will not be the same. I have something quite serious to say to you.""Something serious--you? Go on!" he exclaimed in excitement.
"Have you found another place yet?"
"No. I haven't really tried. I have a little money saved, and I could get one tomorrow if--"She stopped him with a smiling gesture.
"I don't mean that--yet," she said. "I wanted to know whether it would be possible for you to go away for a little time, if someone paid all your expenses.""To go away!" he repeated blankly. "What for?"Mademoiselle Violet leaned a little nearer to him.
"My mistress asked me yesterday," she said, "if I knew anyone who could be trusted who would go away, at a moment's notice, on an errand for her.""Your mistress," he repeated. "You really are a lady's maid, then, are you?""Of course!" she answered impatiently. "Haven't I told you so before? Now what do you say? Will you go?""I dunno," he answered thoughtfully. "If it had been for you, I don't know that I'd have minded. I ain't fond of traveling.""It is for me," she interrupted hastily. "If I can find her anyone who will do what she wants, she will make my fortune. She has promised. And then--""Well, and then?"
Mademoiselle Violet looked at him thoughtfully.
