"All promenade!" shouted the fiddler, the dance being over. The
couples went outside. They passed Wambush and Harriet on the porch,
leaning against the banisters in the moonlight. Her head was covered
with her shawl, and her companion was very near her.
"Never mind; we won't bother you," called out Sarah Wambush, who, with
Nelson Baker, led the promenaders. "We're goin' down the walk; you
needn't run off on our account."
All the others laughed, and Sarah, thinking she had said something
bright, added: "Harriet's got a bad cold, an' Buddy's sprained his
foot; they're takin' the'r medicine."
This evoked another laugh, but neither Wambush nor his companion heeded
it. Westerfelt observed that they turned their backs to the
promenaders and seemed to be talking earnestly.
"It's cool out here," said Westerfelt's partner as they were returning
from the walk under the arbor of grape-vines. "They are all goin'
inside."
At about twelve o'clock the guests began to leave. Harriet Floyd,
followed by Wambush, came in hurriedly after most of the others had
gone.
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