s that our Scotch friend, who is now out there milking, can
outdrive you twenty yards, and I never saw him with a club in his
hands."

"I am not his rival in that or in any other capacity," warmly declared
LaHume.

At this instant our hostess arose, giving the signal that the dinner was
ended, and we adjourned to the lawn. LaHume said something to Miss
Lawrence; she laughed scornfully, and left him and joined Miss Harding.

After cigars and pipes we inspected the new red barn. It is a huge
structure, modern in every particular, and Bishop was properly proud of
it. The lofts were partially filled with sweet clover hay, and the odour
combined with that of the new pine lumber was delicious. The floor had
been planed smooth, and oiled and waxed so as to make an excellent space
for dancing. The uprights were twined with ivy and decorated with wild
flowers, and the effect was pleasing.

The guests were already arriving in all sorts of vehicles, from farm
wagons to automobiles.

An "orchestra" of five pieces was on hand, and the musicians took their
places beneath a cluster of Chinese lanterns. There were fully a hundred
on the floor at nine o'clock, when Mr. Harding and Mrs. Bishop led off
in the grand march. I had secured Miss Harding as my partner, and LaHume
and Miss Lawrence were behind us. Carter was with some village beauty,
but I saw nothing of Wallace in the grand march.

Later he appeared and danced a waltz with Miss Ross, and they made a
handsome couple. The "hired man" was as well dressed as any gentleman in
the room, and I have never seen a more graceful dancer than that tall,
young Scotchman. LaHume watched him like a hawk. When Wallace claimed
Miss Lawrence for a schottische the glum LaHume stood by the door and
looked as if he would rather fight than dance. Chilvers told him he was
making an ass of himself.

It was a glorious night beneath the radiance of a full moon which
silvered the lace-work of a mackerel sky. I never fully realised what
dancing was until Miss Harding favoured me with a polka. And then we
wandered out into the moonlight, talked about the moon, and hunted for
the Great Dipper.

Even a plain woman looks pretty when with eyes and chin lifted she gazes
at the star-studded heavens, her face profiled against the gleaming orb
of a full moon, but no words of mine can describe the splendid beauty of
Miss Harding in that attitude. I tried to think of something to say, but
was under a spell