Mr. Demry was not there, but in the parquet she
encountered a pair of importunate eyes that set her pulses bounding. They
sought her out in the subsequent chorus and followed her every movement
in the grand march that followed.
"Mr. Mac's down there," she whispered excitedly to Birdie as they passed
in the first figure, but Birdie tossed her head and flirted persistently
with the gallery which was quite unused to such marked attention from the
principal show girl.
There was no supper after the play that night, and it was only after much
persuasion on Mac's part, reinforced by the belated Monte, that Birdie
was induced to come out of her sulks and go for a drive around the park.
"Me for the front seat!" cried Nance hoydenishly, and then, as Mac jumped
in beside her and took the wheel, she saw her mistake.
"Oh! I didn't know--" she began, but Mac caught her hand and gave it a
grateful squeeze.
"Confess you wanted to sit by me!" he whispered.
"But I didn't!" she protested hotly. "I never was in a automobile before
and I just wanted to see how it worked!"
She almost persuaded herself that this was true when they reached the
long stretch of parkway, and Mac let her take the wheel. It was only when
in the course of instruction Mac's hand lingered too long on hers, or his
gay, careless face leaned too close, that she had her misgivings.
"Say! this is great!" she cried rapturously, with her feet braced and her
eyes on the long road ahead.
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