icken. She had cast her pearls before swine; and
with a haughty stare at the offending Timothy, she left the stool, and
walking back to her former seat, said:

"I leave the tunes to your sister, who, I believe, plays sometimes."

Somewhat crestfallen, but by no means browbeaten, Tim insisted that
Melinda should give them a jig; and, so, crimsoning with shame and
confusion, Melinda took the vacant stool and played her brother a
tune--a rollicking, galloping tune, which everybody knew, and which set
the feet to keeping time, and finally brought Tim and Andy to the floor
for a dance. But Melinda declined playing for a cotillion which her
brother proposed, and so the dancing arrangement came to naught,
greatly to the delight of Ethelyn, who could only keep back her tears by
looking up at the sweet face of Daisy smiling down upon her from the
wall. That was the only redeeming point in that whole assembly, she
thought. She would not even except Richard then, so intense was her
disappointment and so bitter her regret for the mistake she made when
she promised to go where her heart could never be.

It was nine o'clock when the company dispersed. Each of the ladies
cordially invited Ethelyn to call as soon as convenient, and Mrs.
Harrington, a lady of some cultivation, whose husband was the village
merchant, saying encouragingly to her, as she held her hand a moment,
"Our Western manners seem strange to you, I dare say; but we are a
well-meaning people, and you will get accustomed to us by and by."

She never should--no, never, thought Ethelyn, as she went up to her
room, tired and homesick, and disheartened with this, her first
introduction to the Olney people. It was a very cross wife that slept at
Richard's side that night, and the opinion expressed of the Olneyites
was anything but complimentary to the taste of one who had known them
all his life and liked them so well. But Richard was getting accustomed
to such things. Lectures did not move him now as they had at first, and
overcome with fatigue from his day's work and the evening's excitement,
he fell asleep, while Ethelyn was enlarging upon the merits of the
terrible Tim, who had addressed her as "old lady" and asked her to
"play a tune."

CHAPTER XII

SOCIETY

In the course of two weeks all the people in Olney called upon Ethelyn,
who would gladly have refused herself to them all. But after the morning
when Andy stood outside the door of her room, wringing hi