rely to look at Miss Thayer after having seen
nothing for weeks except flabby half-breed girls and blue-haired
squaws.

Madison was foremost in the field, of course. Madison was really a
nice fellow, and quite deserved all Mrs. Hill's encomiums. He was
good-looking and well groomed--could sing and dance divinely and play
the violin to perfection. The other M.P.s were all jealous of him, and
more so than ever when Violet Thayer came. They did not consider that
any one of them had the ghost of a chance if Madison entered the lists
against them.

Violet liked Madison, and was very chummy with him after her own
fashion. She thought all the M.P.s were nice boys, and they amused
her, for which she was grateful. She had expected Dufferin Bluff to be
very dull, and doubtless it would pall after a time, but for a change
it was delightful.

The sixth evening after her arrival found Mrs. Hill's room crowded, as
usual, with M.P.s. Violet was looking her best in a distracting new
gown--Sergeant Fox afterwards described it to a brother officer as a
"stunning sort of rig between a cream and a blue and a brown"; she
flirted impartially with all the members of her circle at first, but
gradually narrowed down to Ned Madison, much to the delight of Mrs.
Hill, who was hovering around like a small, brilliant butterfly.

Violet was talking to Madison and watching John Spencer out of the
tail of her eye. Spencer was not an M.P. He had some government post
at Dufferin Bluff, and this was his first call at Lone Poplar Villa
since Miss Thayer's arrival. He did not seem to be dazzled by her at
all, and after his introduction had promptly retired to a corner with
Major Hill, where they talked the whole evening about the trouble on
the Indian reservation at Loon Lake.

Possibly this indifference piqued Miss Thayer. Possibly she considered
it refreshing after the servile adulation of the M.P.s. At any rate,
when all the latter were gathered about the piano singing a chorus
with gusto, she shook Madison off and went over to the corner where
Spencer, deserted by the Major, whose bass was wanted, was sitting in
solitary state.

He looked up indifferently as Violet shimmered down on the divan
beside him. Sergeant Robinson, who was watching them jealously from
the corner beyond the palms, and would have given his eyes, or at
least one of them, for such a favour, mentally vowed that Spencer was
the dullest fellow he had ever put those useful membe