't mean enough."

"Well, I won't, and that's flat."

"I've got to go home, anyway," said Abner Little. "What I want to
know is--is there going to be any ball?"

"Oh, get your girl anyhow, Ab," returned Daniel, with a great laugh;
"there'll be something. If there ain't dancing, there'll be kissing,
and that'll suit her just as well. And if she can't get enough here,
why there's the ride home. Lord, I'd get a girl nearer home! You've
got to drive six miles out of your way to Summer Falls and back. As
for me, the quicker I get a girl off my hands the better. I'm going
to take Nancy Blake because she lives next door to the tavern. Go
along with ye, Ab; Burr and I will settle it some way."

But it looked for some time after Abner Little left as if there would
be no ball that night. They could not have any dance unless Madelon
Hautville would sing for it, and both Daniel Plympton and Burr Gordon
were determined not to ask her.

At half-past seven Madelon was all dressed for the ball, and neither
of them had come to see her about it. She and all her brothers except
Louis were going. They wondered who would play for the dancing, but
supposed some arrangements would be made. "Burr Gordon will put it
through somehow," said Louis. "Maybe he'll ride over to Farnham
Hollow and get Luke Corliss to fiddle." Louis sat discontentedly by
the fire, with his arm soaking in cider-brandy and wormwood.

"Farnham Hollow is ten miles away," said Richard.

"His horse is fast; he'd get him here by eight o'clock," returned
Louis.

Madelon was radiant. In spite of herself, she was full of hope in
going to the ball. She knew Dorothy Fair would not be present, since
her father was the orthodox parson, and she had seen her own face in
her glass. With her rival away, what could not a face like that do
with a heart that leaned towards it of its own nature? Madelon dimly
felt that Burr Gordon had to resist himself as well as her in this
matter. She had tended a monthly rose in the south window all winter,
and she wore two red roses in her black braids. Her cheeks and her
lips were fuller of warm red life than the roses. She lowered her
black eyes before her father and her brothers, for there was a light
in them which she could not subdue, which belonged to Burr Gordon
only. No costly finery had Madelon Hautville, but she had done some
cunning needle-work on an old black-satin gown of her mother's, and
it was fitted as softly over her sweet cur