shouted.
“Lorabeth?”
“No!” they cried again.
“One more guess and you take a forfeit,” Zeta called.
“It’s you, Zeta.”
“No!” they cried in unison.
Lorabeth understood the game and that Frances had tried to disguise herself. The next fellow turned up his collar and tucked in his chin, but the guesser recognized him anyway.
“It’s your turn, Lorabeth,” Zeta announced. “Go take the seat.”
Lorabeth walked around the sheet and took her place on the chair. After a few whispers and a thump, two figures loomed on the other side of the cloth. The taller one, obviously a man, leaned over the smaller one until their noses met and their shadows merged. She was so surprised that she slapped a hand to her breast. “Oh, my!”
“What are they doing back here?” Zeta called.
“They’re, um, they’re…” Her neck and face grew uncomfortably warm with embarrassment. “I think they’re having a private moment.”
The girls erupted in giggles.
“One of them is Carrie. Who do you think the other is?”
“Carter?” she asked, trying to recall everyone’s names.
“No!”
“Hobie?”
“No!”
“Damian, then.”
“No, it’s Ben!”
Ben kissing Carrie? She couldn’t even comprehend it.
“Come see!”
Lorabeth got up with her heart pounding and made her way around the white curtain.
Benjamin and Carrie weren’t even touching. They faced each other, but stood in such a way that their shadows reflected an embrace.
The young people burst into laughter.
“It’s such fun to play that prank on someone new,” Frances said, coming to link her arm through Lorabeth’s.
Lorabeth couldn’t explain the relief that flooded over her or the embarrassment that climbed her cheeks and made it difficult to meet Benjamin’s eyes. When she finally dared, she noted he wore an amused expression.
The guests filed back to the dining room where they filled their cups. Lorabeth held hers out for Zeta to ladle punch in.
“This was Ellie’s idea,” Benjamin said near her ear. “If you’re not comfortable, we can leave anytime. I won’t mind.”
“Oh, no. I like it,” she assured him and sipped her drink.
“Men are going to flatter the ladies now!” Zeta called.
The females in the room murmured their enthusiasm over that suggestion.
“Lorabeth,” Zeta told her. “The requirement is that each young man will go from one lady to the next and say six flattering things about her. But tonight—” she paused for effect “—he cannot use the letter L. ”
The males groaned.
“We’ll go around the room and, Carter, you’re first.”
Lorabeth watched with interest as Carter complimented a fair-haired Ida Hunter with statements such as, “Your hair is shiny” and “You are very good at charades.” When he used the word helpful a chorus of voices tagged him with a forfeit.
Carter reached Lorabeth, and she smiled expectantly. The etiquette books she’d read had advised her it was inappropriate for a lady of quality to encourage flattery from a young man, but flattery was the object of the game.
“You—” Carter caught himself and started over. “Your…oh, my…your finger work—that’s it! Your finger work at the piano is very good.”
Everyone laughed at his frustration to get his meaning across.
“Thank you,” Lorabeth said.
He grinned. “You are, um, you have good manners.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“Your hair is a unique and an attractive—shade.”
No one had ever said that to her before. “Why, thank you, Carter.”
A few of the guests chuckled, and Lorabeth realized she didn’t need to thank him each time. She blushed.
“Your eyes are incredibly—”
“Forfeit!” the cries came.
She was disappointed he’d used an L. She wondered what he’d meant to say about her eyes.
And so the game went, with the young men tripping over their tongues. When it was Benjamin’s turn, he told Zeta her party was nice and that the sandwiches were good.
“Lorabeth?”
“No!” they cried again.
“One more guess and you take a forfeit,” Zeta called.
“It’s you, Zeta.”
“No!” they cried in unison.
Lorabeth understood the game and that Frances had tried to disguise herself. The next fellow turned up his collar and tucked in his chin, but the guesser recognized him anyway.
“It’s your turn, Lorabeth,” Zeta announced. “Go take the seat.”
Lorabeth walked around the sheet and took her place on the chair. After a few whispers and a thump, two figures loomed on the other side of the cloth. The taller one, obviously a man, leaned over the smaller one until their noses met and their shadows merged. She was so surprised that she slapped a hand to her breast. “Oh, my!”
“What are they doing back here?” Zeta called.
“They’re, um, they’re…” Her neck and face grew uncomfortably warm with embarrassment. “I think they’re having a private moment.”
The girls erupted in giggles.
“One of them is Carrie. Who do you think the other is?”
“Carter?” she asked, trying to recall everyone’s names.
“No!”
“Hobie?”
“No!”
“Damian, then.”
“No, it’s Ben!”
Ben kissing Carrie? She couldn’t even comprehend it.
“Come see!”
Lorabeth got up with her heart pounding and made her way around the white curtain.
Benjamin and Carrie weren’t even touching. They faced each other, but stood in such a way that their shadows reflected an embrace.
The young people burst into laughter.
“It’s such fun to play that prank on someone new,” Frances said, coming to link her arm through Lorabeth’s.
Lorabeth couldn’t explain the relief that flooded over her or the embarrassment that climbed her cheeks and made it difficult to meet Benjamin’s eyes. When she finally dared, she noted he wore an amused expression.
The guests filed back to the dining room where they filled their cups. Lorabeth held hers out for Zeta to ladle punch in.
“This was Ellie’s idea,” Benjamin said near her ear. “If you’re not comfortable, we can leave anytime. I won’t mind.”
“Oh, no. I like it,” she assured him and sipped her drink.
“Men are going to flatter the ladies now!” Zeta called.
The females in the room murmured their enthusiasm over that suggestion.
“Lorabeth,” Zeta told her. “The requirement is that each young man will go from one lady to the next and say six flattering things about her. But tonight—” she paused for effect “—he cannot use the letter L. ”
The males groaned.
“We’ll go around the room and, Carter, you’re first.”
Lorabeth watched with interest as Carter complimented a fair-haired Ida Hunter with statements such as, “Your hair is shiny” and “You are very good at charades.” When he used the word helpful a chorus of voices tagged him with a forfeit.
Carter reached Lorabeth, and she smiled expectantly. The etiquette books she’d read had advised her it was inappropriate for a lady of quality to encourage flattery from a young man, but flattery was the object of the game.
“You—” Carter caught himself and started over. “Your…oh, my…your finger work—that’s it! Your finger work at the piano is very good.”
Everyone laughed at his frustration to get his meaning across.
“Thank you,” Lorabeth said.
He grinned. “You are, um, you have good manners.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
“Your hair is a unique and an attractive—shade.”
No one had ever said that to her before. “Why, thank you, Carter.”
A few of the guests chuckled, and Lorabeth realized she didn’t need to thank him each time. She blushed.
“Your eyes are incredibly—”
“Forfeit!” the cries came.
She was disappointed he’d used an L. She wondered what he’d meant to say about her eyes.
And so the game went, with the young men tripping over their tongues. When it was Benjamin’s turn, he told Zeta her party was nice and that the sandwiches were good.
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