turned her small, glowing face up to his. “Kiss me,” she commanded.
Dazed, Hugh gathered her into his arms and kissed her little red mouth. She clung to him for a minute and then pushed him gently away.
“Good night, honey,” she whispered.
“Good night.” Hugh’s voice broke huskily. He turned and walked rapidly down the hall, upon the veranda, and down the steps. His classmates were waiting for him. They rushed up to him, de¬ manding that he tell them what had happened.
He told them most of it, especially about the dance; but he neglected to mention the kiss. Shy¬ ness overcame any desire that he had to strut. Be¬ sides, there was something about that kiss that made it impossible for him to tell any one, even Carl. When he went to bed that night, he did not think once about the coming football game. Before his eyes floated the girl in the corn-colored frock. He wished he knew her name. . . . Closer and closer she came to him. He could feel her cool arms around his neck. “What a wonderful, wonderful girl! Sweeter than Helen—lots sweeter. . . . She’s like the night—and moonlight. . . . Like moonlight and—” The music of the Indian Serenade” began to thrill through his mind:
“I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night. . . .
