laughing and skylarking
beyond the barrier, a picturesque block of negroes, picked out by
flashing white teeth, red bandannas folded above wrinkled countenances
and garish knots of ribbon flaunting above the pert yellow faces of a
younger mulatto race.

The light athletic figure, towed by the white bulldog, drew many
glances. Valiant's eyes, however, as they swept the seats, were
looking for but one, and at first vainly. He felt a quick pang of
disappointment. Perhaps she would not come! Perhaps her mother was still
ill. Perhaps--but then suddenly his heart beat high, for he saw her in
the lower tier, with a group of young people. He could not have told
what she wore, save that it was of soft Murillo blue with a hat whose
down-curved brim was wound with a shaded plume of the same tint. Her
mother was not with her. She was not looking his way as he passed--her
arms at the moment being held out in an adorable gesture toward a little
child in a smiling matron's lap--and but a single glance was vouchsafed
him before the major seized upon him and bore him to the purple
pavilion, for he was one of the committee.

But for this distraction, he might have seen, entering the stand with
the Chalmers just as the band struck up a delirious whirl of _Dixie_,
the two strangers whom the doctor had observed an hour before as they
whirled by the Merryweather Mason house behind the judge's grays. Silas
Fargo might have passed in any gathering for the unobtrusive city man.
Katharine was noticeable anywhere, and to-day her tall willowy figure in
its champagne-color lingerie gown and hat garnished with bronze and gold
thistles, setting in relief her ivory statuesque face, drew a wave of
whispered comment which left a sibilant wake behind them. The party
made a picturesque group as they now disposed themselves, Katharine's
colorless loveliness contrasting with the eager sparkle of pretty Nancy
Chalmers and the gipsy-like beauty of Betty Page.

"You call it a tournament, don't you?" asked Katharine of the judge.

"Yes," he replied. "It's a kind of contest in which twelve riders
compete for the privilege of naming a Queen of Beauty. There's a ball
to-night, at which the lucky lady is crowned. Those little tents are
where the noble knights don their shining armor. See, there go their
caparisoned chargers."

A file of negroes was approaching the tents, each leading a horse whose
saddle and bridle were decorated with fringes of various hues.