Good Luck by L.T. Meade

When Alison arrived at the Clays' the fun was in full swing. The house was crowded -- not only the long sitting room, but the little hall, and a good way up the stairs. A stage had been erected at one end of the sitting room; on this stage now the actors were disporting themselves. As Alison had not arrived in time for supper, no one took any notice of her when she appeared. She found that it was quite impossible to hope to get a corner, either to sit or stand, in the room where the acting was going on. She had, therefore, to content herself with leaning up against the wall in the passage, and now and then bending forward so as to see the one person about whom she was the least interested -- Jim himself.

The play was a very poor affair, and consisted of several short scenes acted in the style of charades, with impromptu conversations, which mostly consisted of coarse jests and innuendoes; but the loud laughter of the spectators assured Alison that this style of thing was quite up to their level. She felt rather sickened at Jim's taking part in anything so commonplace; but her love for him, which grew daily, gave her a certain sense of rest and happiness at even being in his vicinity. He did not know she was there, but that mattered little or nothing. When the play was over he would come out and see her, and then everything would be smooth and delightful. She forgot to be jealous of Louisa; she even forgot the fact that a few short weeks ago she had been publicly accused of theft; she only knew that she wore her best frock; she was only conscious that she looked her best and brightest, that when Jim's eyes did rest upon her he could not but acknowledge her charm; she was only well aware that it was Christmas Eve, and that all the world was rejoicing. She stood, therefore, in the crowded hall with a smiling face, her hands lightly, clasped in front of her, her thoughts full of peace, and yet stimulated to a certain excited joy.