Annixter, his hands clasped behind him, stood watching.
In a few moments Hilma was surrounded by a group of young men, clamouring for dances.

They came from all corners of the barn, leaving the other girls precipitately, almost rudely.

There could be little doubt as to who was to be the belle of the occasion.

Hilma's little triumph was immediate, complete.

Annixter could hear her voice from time to time, its usual velvety huskiness vibrating to a note of exuberant gayety.
All at once the orchestra swung off into a march--the Grand March.