nt. Mr. Meredith has been looking everywhere for him to take
Miss Hinsdale out to supper."

"Good-night, Miss Sherwood," said John in a cheerful voice. "I thank you
for sitting out the dance with me."

"Good-night," she said, and gave him her hand. "I'm so sorry I shan't
see you again; I am only in Rouen for this evening, or I should ask you
to come to see me. I am leaving to-morrow morning. Good-night.--Yes,
mamma."

The three figures went toward the bright lights of the club-house. She
was leaning on Macauley's arm and chatting gaily, smiling up at him
brightly. John watched her till she was lost in the throng on the
veranda. There, in the lights, where waiters were arranging little
tables, every one was talking and moving about, noisily, good-humored
and happy. There was a flourish of violins, and then the orchestra swung
into a rampant march that pranced like uncurbed cavalry; it stirred the
blood of old men with militant bugle calls and blast of horns; it
might have heralded the chariot of a flamboyant war god rioting out of
sunrise, plumed with youth. Some quite young men on the veranda made
as if they were restive horses champing at the bit and heading a
procession, and, from a group near by, loud laughter pealed.

John Harkless lifted to his face the hand that had held hers; there was
the faint perfume of her glove. He kissed his own hand. Then he put that
hand and the other to his forehead, and sank into her chair.

"Let me get back," he said. "Let me get back to Plattville, where I
belong."

Tom Meredith came calling him. "Harkless? John Harkless?"

"Here I am, Tom."

"Come along, boy. What on earth are you doing out here all alone? I
thought you were with--I thought some people were with you. You're
bored to death, I know; but come along and be bored some more, because I
promised to bring you in for supper. Then we'll go home. They've saved a
place for you by Miss Hinsdale."

"Very well, lad," answered Harkless, and put his hand on the other's
shoulder. "Thank you."

The next day he could not leave his bed; his wounds were feverish and
his weakness had returned. Meredith was shaken with remorse because
he had let him wander around in the damp night air with no one to look
after him.

CHAPTER XVII. HELEN'S TOAST

Judge Briscoe was sitting out under the afternoon sky with his chair
tilted back and his feet propped against the steps. His coat was off,
and Minnie sat near at hand sewing a bu