r Gordon!" cried he, and his face blazed white in Burr's
eyes, and he shook his slender brown fist.

"Nobody wants your sister to lilt if she isn't willing to," Burr
returned, in a hard voice; and he snatched up a hemlock bough, and
went away with it to the other side of the ball-room.

"My sister won't lilt for you, and you can have your ball the best
way you can!" shouted the boy, his angry eyes following Burr. Then he
went out of the ball-room with a leap, and slammed the door so that
the tavern trembled.

The young men chuckled. "Injun blood is up," said one.

"You'll be scalped, Burr," called the other.

Burr came over to them with an angry stride. "Oh, quit fooling!" said
he, impatiently. "What's going to be done?"

"Nothing can be done; we shall have to give the ball up for to-night
unless you can get Madelon Hautville to lilt for the dancing,"
returned one, and the other nodded assent. "That's the state of the
case," said he.

Burr scraped a foot impatiently on the waxed floor. "Go and ask her
yourself, Daniel Plympton," said he. "I don't see why it has all got
to come on to me."

"Can't," replied Daniel Plympton, with a laugh. "Remember the falling
out Eugene and I had at the house-raising? I ain't going to his house
to ask his sister to lilt for my dancing."

"You, then, Abner Little," said Burr, peremptorily, to the other
young man. He had a fair, nervous face, and he was screwing his
forehead anxiously over the situation.

"Can't nohow, Burr," said he. "I've got to drive four miles home, and
milk, and take care of the horses, and shave, and get dressed, and
then drive another three miles for my girl. I'm going to take one of
the Morse girls, over at Summer Falls. I haven't got time to go down
to the Hautvilles', and that's the truth, Burr."

"You'll have to go yourself, Burr," said Daniel Plympton, with a
half-laugh.

"I can't," said Burr, "and I won't, if we give the ball up."

"What will all the out-of-town folks say?"

"I don't care what they say--they can play forfeits."

"Forfeits!" returned Daniel Plympton with scorn. "What's kissing to
dancing?" Daniel Plympton was somewhat stout but curiously light of
foot, and accounted the best dancer in town. As he spoke he sprang up
on his toes as if he had winged heels. "Forfeits!" repeated he,
jerking his great flaxen head.

"Well, you can go yourself, then, and ask Madelon Hautville to lilt,"
said Burr.

"I tell you I can't, Burr--I ain