nes hitherto
witnessed in their lives. The man did not forsake his companions to
join the row of unfortunates. As they reached the head of the social
rank, where sat Mrs. McDermott, the wife of the section boss and
_arbiter elegantiarum_ for all Ellisville, the gentleman bowed and
spoke some few words, though obviously to a total stranger--a very
stiff and suspicious stranger, who was too startled to reply.

The ladies bowed to the wife of the section boss and to the others as
they came in turn. Then the three passed on a few seats apart from and
beyond the other occupants of that side of the house, thus leaving a
break in the ranks which caused Mrs. McDermott a distinct sniff and
made the red-headed girl draw up in pride. The newcomers sat near to
the second lamp from the musicians' stand, and in such fashion that
they were half hid in the deep shadows cast by that erratic luminary.

There was now much tension, and the unhappiness and suspense could have
endured but little longer. Again the accordion protested and the
fiddle wept. The cornet uttered a faint note of woe. Yet once more
there was a pause in this time of joy.

Again the door was pushed open, not timidly, but flung boldly back.
There stood two figures at the head of the hall and in the place of
greatest light. Of these, one was tall and very thin, but upright as a
shaft of pine. Over his shoulder hung a cloak, which he swept aside
over his arm with a careless and free gesture of unconcern. He was
clad in dark garments; thus much might be said. His face, clean shaven
but for the long and pointed mustaches and goatee, was high and bold,
his gaze confident and merry. His waistcoat sat high and close. At
wrist and neck there showed a touch of white, and a bit of white
appeared protruding at the bosom of his coat. His tread was supple and
easy as that of a boy of twenty. "Ned, me boy," he whispered to his
companion as they entered, "I'm feelin' fine the night; and as for
yerself, ye're fit for the court o' St. James at a diplomats' ball."

Franklin, indeed, deserved somewhat of the compliment. He was of that
rare figure of man which looks well whether clad for the gymnasium or
the ball, upon which clothing does not merely hang, but which fills out
and dignifies the apparel that may be worn. In height the ex-captain
was just below the six-foot mark which so often means stature but not
strength, and he carried every inch of his size with propor