New Britain herald., 1916-08-14
Nludge Secs Grace Draper's Attempt
 to Win Dicky.

1 ised to give us before I leaned for ward in breathless amazement at the audacity of the girl. The dance she was giving was something like the old Spanish bolero, but the languOrOus steps, the seduc- tive posturings which the girl had added made it a most daring spec tacle
 I had to admit, however, that she made a most alluring picture as she sWayed to and fro. now throwing her
 arms wide in abandon, now deftly
 pirouetting, with her scarlet sash huttering from her hands like a caged
 bird trying to escape.
 Dicky had swung the piano slightly to one side, so that as he played he
 was able to watch the dancer. lie was playing without notes, evidently music with which he was familiar, so that his whole attention was free to be given to the girl who was so openly demanding it. I have attended many theatrical performances, both with Diclly and with my brOther-cOusin, Jack BlcH- ett and, of course, have seen many of the modern dances, which, to say the least are not marked by any par ticular repression.
 My imagination may have been fired, my judgment warped by my jealousy of the dancer, but it seemed to me as I watched the girl that never in my life had I witnessed a more daring and bizarre exhibition than she was giving.
 As utterly regardless of me as if I had been miles away, she kept her face turned toward Dicky, watching him constantly, and whenever she passed him throwing back her head
 with a concentrating gaze of her won derful eyes upon him through in dolent, half-closed lids. I recalled Lillian's warning that the girl was as "hard as nails'' and would stop at nothing to win Dicky. I saw that the alluring dance, the eff feet of which she had so shrewdly calculated, was the weapon she was pitting against my tennis prowess of the afternoon.
 Dicky's NIschicvous Wink.
 As she swayed past the piano for the fourth time she smiled at Dicky and he returned it with a mischievOus Wi'k, She drew the end of her silken sash across his cheek with the ef- feet of a caress and danced on.
 I could not bear to look at her any longer. I turned my eyes away, wondering if my guests also were noticing the fragrant breach of good taste on the part of Miss Draper.
 Lillian's face appeared devoid of any emotion whatever. She sat scru- tinizing the dancer with narrowed eyelids, as though she was some new species of animal in museum. Only a slight tapping of her foot upon the rug made me realize that she was with difficulty repressing the angry contempt she felt for the girl.
 But if Lillian's attitude held ap- parent apathy, her husbands was that of eager enthusiasm. He was leaning forward, his eyes watching every movement of the dancer, his face, startled out of it's usual lines of indolent indifference, betraying as tonished approval of the girls skill
 Only a woman can understand how through all my jealous misery con- corning Dicky there crept a tiny thread of pique that Grace Draper should have been able /also to win the admiration of Harry Underwood
 AS the dance came to close MT. Underwood sprang to his feet, clap plng his hands, waving his handker- chief, and crying Bravo" as if he were witnessing the triumph of some Wofld-tamous ballerina at the Metro politan.
 Where have you been hiding your self! he demanded extravagantly. 'Why aren't you on the big time? Of course, you're not an amateur, any one can see that, but why is it I've never heard of you before? I thought I'd seen every dancer worth while in the country"
 T was on the road last year with the Number Three Hornets Nest company the girl returned calmly
 Harry Underwood looked startled for minute, then he pursed his lips into low, long-drawn whistle.
 "Graydon, the manager, and Mrs. Graydon, leading woman?" he de- handed
 "Yes,' the girl returned, shortly, while Dicl1y looked impatient at the colloQuy, and Lillian and I gazed at each other in wonder as to what it all meant
 "So. When did you quit?'' The question was sharp, incisive. This was a new Harry Underwood I was seeing. He had all the air of a bus mess man engaging a stenographer. If the girl resented his questioning she did not show it. Hast winter," she said laconically. A Hint of Trouble. I remembered the day I had first seen her, when she had returned to Marvin, and her sister had hinted of some troubled experience she had had. She must have just left her professional engagement on that day. l found myself mentally echoing the next question which Harry Under wood shot at her.
 "Why?"
 not need to have me tell you whv."