Maria Angelina had heard of Harvard. Her mother's father had been a Harvard man. But she did not understand just why too much Harvard would make a play fluke nor what a play did when it fluked, but she asked no questions and sat very still, looking out at the dancing couples.
She saw her Cousin Jane whirling past. She tried to imagine her mother dancing with young men at the Hotel Excelsior and she could not. Already she wondered if she had better write everything.
Then the dancing pair came back to them and the young man sat down and talked a little to her cousins. But at the music's recommencement he turned directly to her.
"Signorina, are you going to do me the honor?"
He had a merry way with him as if he were laughing ever so little at her, and Maria Angelina's heart which had been beating quite fast before began to skip dizzily.
She thanked Heaven that it was a waltz for, while the new steps were unknown, Maria could waltz--that was a gift from Papa.
"With pleasure, Signor," she murmured, rising.
"But you must take off your hat," Mrs. Blair told her.
"That brim is too wide, my dear. You couldn't dance."
"But to go bareheaded--like a peasant?" Maria Angelina faltered and they laughed.
"It doesn't matter--it's much better than that brim," Mrs. Blair pronounced and obediently Maria's small hands rose and removed the overshadowing whiteness from the dark little head with its coronet of heavy braids.
She did not raise her eyes to see Barry Elder's sudden flash of astonishment. Shyly she slipped within his clasp and let him swing her out into the circle of dancers.
Maria Angelina could waltz, indeed. She was fairy-footed, and for some moments Barry Elder was content to dance without speaking; then he bent his head closer to those dark braids.
"So I am the first young man you have met in America?"
Maria Angelina looked up through her lashes in quick gayety.
"Your first American--Ah, but on the boat! There must have been young men on that boat, American young men?"
"On that boat? Signor!" Maria Angelina laughed mischievously. "One reads of such in novels--yes? But as to that boat, it was a floating nunnery."
"Oh, come now," he protested amusedly, "there must have been _some_ men!"
"Some men, yes--a ship's officer, some married ones, a grandfather or two--but nothing young and nothing American."