Mildred only gave you Ella Dowling to compare with me!"
"Oh, no," he insisted. "There were others—and of course Mildred, herself."
"Oh, of course, yes. I forgot that. Well———" She paused, then added, "I certainly ought to dance well."
"Why is it so much a duty?"
"When I think of the dancing-teachers and the expense to papa! All sorts of fancy instructors—I suppose that's what daughters have fathers for, though, isn't it? To throw money away on them?"
"You don't———" Russell began, and his look was one of alarm. "You haven't taken up———"
She understood his apprehension and responded merrily, "Oh, murder, no! You mean you're afraid I break out sometimes in a piece of cheesecloth and run around a fountain thirty times, and then, for an encore, show how much like snakes I can make my arms look."
"I said you were a mind-reader!" he exclaimed. "That's exactly what I was pretending to be afraid you might do."
"'Pretending?' That's nicer of you. No; it's not my mania."
"What is?"
