y this time?"

"How about some dance music?" queried Joe pleasantly. He was very much
ashamed of his weakness and ill temper, and was determined to make up
for it. "That's about the lightest and merriest we have."

The girls assented eagerly, and in a few minutes the unpleasant episode
was forgotten--or apparently forgotten. At least, for the time being it
was relegated to the background, and it was not till some time later
that Joe unexpectedly broached it to Betty.

The drenching downpour had changed to a sort of dismal drizzle and Mrs.
Ford, upon remarking this fact had made the suggestion that they get
into the machines again and try to make Bensington. But Mrs. Barnes had
so promptly and emphatically negatived this that there was really no
room left for argument.

"Why, even with dry roads it would take you two hours or more to get
there, for at all times the road is bad between here and Bensington, but
such a thing is simply out of the question with roads that are two feet
deep in mud. No, you must stay for the night. I have plenty of room and
am more than delighted to have you. No, please don't object, for I will
not hear of your doing otherwise."

And so it had been settled, much to everybody's satisfaction.

However, Betty was very much surprised when, in the midst of a beautiful
dance with Joe Barnes--for Joe was a rather wonderful dancer--the latter
whirled her off toward a window seat in one corner of the room and
placed her, a little breathless, upon it.

"Well," she said, that unconquerable imp of mischief dancing in her
eyes, "have you any adequate excuse to offer for the spoiling of an
exceptionally good dance?"

"Is it spoiled?" he asked reproachfully, as he sank down beside her. "I
thought perhaps I was improving--the occasion."

She made a little face at him, incidentally showing all her dimples.

"I suppose, if I were a coquette," she said, flushing a little under the
very open admiration of his eyes, "which I am not--"

"I'm not so sure," he murmured but she pretended not to hear the
interruption.

"I should deny that you had spoiled the dance. As it is," she flashed
him a pretty smile that robbed her words of all sting, "I'm telling you
the truth."

"And I," he countered, "am telling you the truth when I say that if it
were possible to talk with you and dance at the same time, I should not
have brought you here. As it is, I choose the greater of the two
blessings."

"It must be ve