dead ones. Now you're
a live one, all wool, a yard long and a yard wide."

She stopped before the house and put her hand on the gate.

"Good-bye," she said. "I'm going in."

"Come on out afterward for a run to Idora Park," he suggested.

"No, I'm not feeling good, and I'm going straight to bed as soon as I
eat supper."

"Huh!" he sneered. "Gettin' in shape for the fling to-morrow night, eh?"

With an impatient movement she opened the gate and stepped inside.

"I've given it to you straight," he went on. "If you don't go with me
to-morrow night somebody'll get hurt."

"I hope it will be you," she cried vindictively.

He laughed as he threw his head back, stretched his big chest, and
half-lifted his heavy arms. The action reminded her disgustingly of a
great ape she had once seen in a circus.

"Well, good-bye," he said. "See you to-morrow night at Germania Hall."

"I haven't told you it was Germania Hall."

"And you haven't told me it wasn't. All the same, I'll be there. And
I'll take you home, too. Be sure an' keep plenty of round dances open
fer me. That's right. Get mad. It makes you look fine."

CHAPTER VIII

The music stopped at the end of the waltz, leaving Billy and Saxon at
the big entrance doorway of the ballroom. Her hand rested lightly on
his arm, and they were promenading on to find seats, when Charley Long,
evidently just arrived, thrust his way in front of them.

"So you're the buttinsky, eh?" he demanded, his face malignant with
passion and menace.

"Who?--me?" Billy queried gently. "Some mistake, sport. I never butt
in."

"You're goin' to get your head beaten off if you don't make yourself
scarce pretty lively."

"I wouldn't want that to happen for the world," Billy drawled. "Come on,
Saxon. This neighborhood's unhealthy for us."

He started to go on with her, but Long thrust in front again.

"You're too fresh to keep, young fellow," he snarled. "You need saltin'
down. D'ye get me?"

Billy scratched his head, on his face exaggerated puzzlement.

"No, I don't get you," he said. "Now just what was it you said?"

But the big blacksmith turned contemptuously away from him to Saxon.

"Come here, you. Let's see your program."

"Do you want to dance with him?" Billy asked.

She shook her head.

"Sorry, sport, nothin' doin'," Billy said, again making to start on.

For the third time the blacksmith blocked the way.

"Get off your foot," said Billy. "You're standin' on it."