. What a sweet an' happy thought it was o' John March, tellin' the
girls to put the amount in fifty pieces, one for each year. But he's
always been that original. Worthy son of a worthy motheh! Why, here he
is! Howdy, John? I'm so proud to see Sisteh March here to-night; she
told me at dinneh that she 'llowed to go back to Widewood this evenin'."

"I see in the papeh she 'llowed to go this mawnin'," said Clay Mattox.

John showed apologetic amusement. "That's my fault, I reckon, I
understood mother to say she couldn't stay this evening."

A finger was laid on his shoulder. It was Shotwell again. "John, Miss
Fannie Halliday wants Jeff-Jack. Do you know where he is?"

"No! Where is Miss Fannie?"

Shotwell lifted his hand again, with a soothing smile. "Don't remove yo'
shirt; Ellen is saafe, fo' that thaynk Heavm, an' hopes ah faw the
Douglas givm."

March flung himself away, but Shotwell turned him again by a
supplicating call and manly, repentant air. "Law, John, don't mind my
plaay, old man; I'm just about as sick as you ah. Here! I'll tell you
where she is, an' then I'll tell you what let's do! You go hunt
Jeff-Jack an' I'll staay with heh till you fetch him!"

"That would be nice," cheerfully laughed John.

In the next room he came upon Fannie standing in a group of Rosemont and
Montrose youths and damsels. They promptly drew away.

"John," she said, "I want to ask a favor of you, may I?"

"You can ask any favor in the world of me, Miss Fannie, except one."

"Why, what's that?" risked Fannie.

"The one you've just sent Shotwell to do." He smiled with playful
gallantry, yet felt at once that he had said too much.

Fannie put on a gayety intended for their furtive observers, as she
murmured, "Don't look so! A dozen people are watching you with their
ears in their eyes." Then, in a fuller voice--"I want you to get Parson
Tombs away from that crowd in yonder. He's excited and overtaxing his
strength."

"Then may I come back and spend a few minutes--no more--with you--alone?
This is the last chance I'll ever have, Miss Fannie--I--I simply must!"

"John, if you simply must, why, then, you simply--mustn't. You'll have
the whole room trying to guess what you're saying."

"They've no right to guess!"

"We've no right to set them guessing, John." She saw the truth strike
and felt that unlucky impulse of compassion which so often makes a
woman's mercy so unmercifully ill-timed. "Oh!" she called as he was
leav