as she crossed out a name. "Tantrell can look for another partner," she added.
"Who may Tantrell be?" asked Dick, as he put his name in place of the erased one.
"My cousin. He brought me here, but he doesn't care much for dancing. I know he'll be glad to have you relieve him."
"Not half so glad as I am," retorted Dick quickly. "Now I'll get you the ice."
As he walked away he saw Dutton eyeing him angrily.
"Probably he doesn't like me to be talking to her," thought Dick.
There was quite a crush in the refreshment room, and, in spite of the fact that he was a member of the arrangement committee, Dick had some difficulty in getting an ice for Miss Hanford. As he struggled through the crush of gay dancers with it he tripped, and, to save himself, involuntarily threw his hands forward. The ice slipped from the plate, and went splashing full against the back of a cadet dressed in an elaborate Colonial uniform, with a white satin coat. The highly-colored ice made a big, blotchy stain on the garment.
The cadet whirled like a flash. It was Dutton.
"Who did that?" he cried, as he saw a little puddle forming at his feet, where the fast melting ice lay.
"I did," answered Dick promptly. "It was an accident, Captain Dutton."
