When the candidates were given a first view of the leaders (after being allowed to come from under the sheet), it seemed to Miette she had never beheld anything so strangely funny, and she laughed heartily enough when the penalty for laughing was “raised.” But she was not allowed to speak to the others, and she soon became serious, wondering what was to happen next.
“Number four,” called the Ranger, “make love to the sofa cushion!”
Miette was number four. She looked up inquiringly.
“As they do it in France,” replied the leader.
“You must guess,” commanded the one behind the mask.
“In France,” began Miette, “they do not make love at all, I believe.”
This brought forth all kinds of calls and suggestions. Finally, Nita, for it was she who was leading this number, said in a strained voice:
“Tell us what they do--how do they get acquainted?”
There was a hum of excitement as Miette stood up and faced the audience.
“In France,” she began, “when it is time for a young lady to marry, her parents make it known to her friends. Then, if some young man also wishes to marry, he has told his friends. After that the young lady is taken out by her chaperon, or maid, or perhaps her mother, and the young man is told that at a certain hour he may see her pass some place mutually agreed upon. She ‘knows _he_ is looking, but she does not look at him.’”
“Oh, her opinion doesn’t count,” interrupted some one.
“Of course,” continued Miette, who was plainly much embarrassed, “I do not exactly know.”
“Just make a guess,” commanded the leader.
“After that, should the young man approve of the young lady, they meet at a dinner or some function.”
“Is that all?” queried Nita, for the audience seemed quite interested in the recital which had turned from a matter of nonsense into French customs.
“Well, I suppose after a month or two--they marry!” finished Miette, much relieved to have gotten off so easily.
“And that is French love-making?” exclaimed one of the committee. “See a man, go to a dinner, then become engaged and marry in a few months! I call that--something better than our boasted rush. America is not the only place in the world where the big wheel moves past the speed limit, then.”
“We are getting along without trouble,” whispered Dorothy to Tavia, “I am glad we did not stop the fun.”