# A Princetonian/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X.
THE DANCE.
The windows were down and the music of the orchestra throbbed on the air. The big veranda (the Hall had originally been intended for a hotel) was enclosed by sheets of canvas. A large crowd was gathered about the entrance. As he approached the table at which the tickets were being sold, it not being an invitation affair, he saw Hart and Congreve in the line ahead of him. The three freshmen entered the room together. It was very brilliantly lighted and decked with banner trophies and long streamers of orange and black. The orchestra occupied the stage at the end of the hall, and the first number had just begun.
Congreve saw a girl whom he knew well in the city, and left Hart and Heaphy standing in the corner. Little Miss Bliss walked by on the arm of a tall senior. She leaned back and ​nodded pleasantly to Hart. The senior followed her glance.
"Do you know," he said, "it is a strange thing that in the freshman year about twenty-five men come to the front for some reason and become known to the college at large. It takes two years about to bring the others out. Those two chaps are in the twenty-five. I don't suppose that there is a man in college who doesn't know them by sight. Of course the big fellow's belonging to football accounts for it with him, but I think we will hear from the other one too. Strange looking bird!"
Heaphy had begun to feel very ill at ease, and Hart was struggling against the same sensation. As soon as he had come in he had looked around for Miss Hollingsworth and at last he saw her surrounded by a cordon of black coats in the farther corner.
One thing that made Hart nervous was noticing that they danced very differently from the way people danced at Oakland. There was no stamping or calling from one couple to another, and they went through a quadrille without any one shouting out the figures.
He wondered what Mabel would say to the ​dresses. Hers had always been the best at Oakland, but somehow he could not exactly imagine her here beside him. He felt sure that she would be uncomfortable. Instead of entering into the gayety, Hart began to be much depressed.
"I wouldn't know what to say to these people," he thought to himself. "I wonder what they talk about."
Neither he nor the "young man with a purpose" had moved since they had entered the room. Suddenly Bliss caught sight of them and hurried up.
"Look here, can't I introduce you to some of the girls?" he said. "I know four or five good dancers who might give you an extra. There's Sally Redmond over there,—jolly girl. She's all alone. Come on!"
He took Hart by the sleeve and led him across the room. Hart felt like a lumbering deep-sea craft in charge of a pilot. Bliss took his time and avoided impending collisions without having to jump for it, and steered through the dangerous shoals of whirling skirts and projecting elbows, and brought his convoy to anchor at last before a little girl seated near ​the window; and now Hart found out what they were talking about.
"Isn't it dreadfully warm, Mr. Hart?" said the girl. As she had been dancing and was fanning herself furiously, Hart agreed.
"The hall looks very pretty, doesn't it? You are so clever at decorating things down here!"
Hart looked around him.
"Yes, I think it's pretty," he said.
"Those pillars are dreadfully in the way."
"I should think they were."
This was easy enough. A pause followed.
"The floor is very good," said the girl.
Hart looked at the floor.
"Yes," he remarked, "and it is quite crowded."
From the floor his glance passed to Miss Redmond's face. She appeared to be having a very good time. She was animated and smiling as if they had been indulging in quite a wonderful and brain-enlivening conversation. Somehow Hart began to pluck up courage. He ventured some remark about the music. It was accepted.
Just as they had got back to the weather again ​a young man came up and claimed a dance, and Miss Redmond whisked away.
Hart somehow felt amused. In fact he had learned as much in this short conversation as he might have derived from reading a book on the subject. He arose and joined Heaphy. He had found out that by walking slowly people got out of his way.
He did not note the envious look in Heaphy's eyes. The latter took him by the arm. His question rang in such accord with Hart's thoughts that he was forced to smile.
"What did you talk to them? Did you have to pay them compliments?" asked Heaphy.
"No," said Hart, "just let them begin it and agree with what they say."
Again Bliss happened to go by.
"The next is your dance with my sister," he said, tapping Hart on the shoulder. "She is over there near the door."
Hart walked in Miss Bliss's direction. As he came up he saw that Congreve was talking to her.
"Here he is now," said Congreve. "Oh, Pop!"
Hart had become quite used to his nickname.
​"I was reciting Golatly's poem about your struggle with Matt."
"You don't know what a hero you are made out to be," said Miss Bliss, looking up at Hart with a laugh.
"Well, I don't feel like one," Hart answered awkwardly. "It's very hot this evening."
"Yes, it is," said Miss Bliss.
"Floor is very good."
Miss Bliss appeared astonished. Somehow the smile of interest was fading away.
"The music is very good too."
"Yes," answered Miss Bliss.
"How pretty the decorations are."
Why, it was as easy as swimming. The music struck up, and Hart after three or four collisions in getting started managed to get through four or five turns of the polka.
"Thank you very much," said Miss Bliss, as they swung near their seat again. "I promised to give half of this to Mr. Hollingsworth."
She left Hart with a little smile, and Hollingsworth guided her away into the crowd.
"I thought you said he was a character,—a hoosier, you called him," said Miss Bliss.
​"Well, he is," returned Hollingsworth, "a regular yap. Doesn't he talk like it?"
"No such luck," said Miss Bliss, shortly. "He talks like the rest of you, and is just as uninteresting."
Hollingsworth frowned, and the rest of the dance was finished in silence.
Meantime Hart had begun to enjoy himself, when suddenly a qualm struck him about poor Heaphy. Passing Congreve, Hart stopped him.
"Why don't you introduce Heaphy to some of your friends," he said.
"Good idea," said Congreve, "I'll knock him down to Daisy Smith. She'll play tag with him."
But Heaphy was nowhere to be found. Only a few minutes before he had taken his things from the cloak-room and walked away from the hall, added bitterness eating into his heart.
Now it was the fourth figure and Hart approached Miss Hollingsworth. She greeted him with a smile.
"You've not forgotten," she said.
The crowd about her made a little way for him. She took his arm and they walked off slowly.
​"It is very warm," Hart began.
He went through the formula that he imagined so successful and had gotten as far as the condition of the floor when Miss Hollingsworth interrupted him.
"Now go on and speak about the music and the decorations," she said. "Heavens, how I enjoy originality!"
Poor Hart was embarrassed now and no mistake.
"Oh, never mind," said Miss Hollingsworth, "I know you are really better than that. Don't let's dance; let's go out on the veranda."
They went through the doorway and found seats together where the air was cool and fresh. Hart had not spoken and now could imagine nothing to start the talk with. Suddenly Miss Hollingsworth began.
"Mr. Bliss told me something about you, Mr. Hart," she said. "Now, I should say that you had a great deal before you. You see, women divide men into two classes at first, men who are usual, and men who are different."
"Do you mean the usual are indifferent?" asked Hart.
​"Now, that's better," said Miss Hollingsworth. "No, I don't. This is what I mean."
And then she went on to explain. Hart found that he had lost all his embarrassment, and to his strange surprise an unusual enjoyment came to him. The girls he had met at Oakland had never talked to him like this. There was an excitement about it.
Miss Hollingsworth was finding a great deal out about her new acquaintance. She had been given by nature the strange gift of being able to draw out the best from people,—to make them interested and interesting.
Hart was telling something of the life in a new town, of the emigrant farmers, their ignorance and suffering. From that he had come to speak of his early youth.
He had grown away from any awkwardness and no man ever forgets a conversation of this kind, or a woman who has once eased the awkwardness of new surroundings.
Suddenly the talk was interrupted by the tall senior who had first spoken of the two freshmen, claiming the dance.
"I hope we shall meet again, Mr. Hart," ​said Miss Hollingsworth, giving her hand as she went away, leaving him alone. He came back into the room for a minute, but had lost all interest in the floor, the music, and the decorations.
Despite the entreaties of Congreve to remain, he got his hat and coat (at least Franklin's coat) and strolled over to the latter's room.
It was quite early and Buck had not gone to bed.
"Well," he asked, "how was it? A success?"
Hart paused.
"Well," he answered, "it was and it wasn't."
"You are non-committal," yawned Franklin.
"Perhaps so," said Hart, thoughtfully. "Do you know that there's a lot to learn that's never been put in books."
"That's just life," returned Franklin.