But the unsentimental hilarity all around saved
him and brought him through without a stain on his behavior. Only he
could not bolt--he could not get a moment to himself for love or money.
It was for love he wanted it. He must find her--he could not wait now.
But he had to wait. He had to go into the country to dinner with
them all and be lionized and made speeches at, and made fun of, and
treated as the darling child and the pride and joy and--what was harder
to bear--as the hero and the great man of the class. All the time
growing madder with restlessness, for who could tell if she might
not be leaving town! A remnant of the class ahead crossed them--
and there was Brant, her brother. Diplomacy was not for Johnny
McLean--he was much too anxious.
"Brant, look here," and he drew him into a comparative corner.
"Where is she?" Brant did not pretend not to understand,
but he grinned.
"At the Andersons', of course."
"Now?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Fellows," said Johnny McLean, "I'm sorry, but I've got to sneak.
I'm going back to town."
Sentences and scraps of sentences came flying at him from all over.
"Hold him down"--"Chain him up"--"Going--tommy-rot--can't go!"
"You'll be game for the roundup at eleven--you've got to be.
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