tain that something terrible
was going to happen. They protested that they did not wish to be there
when it happened, and some one suggested going to a big Italian rancho
four miles away, where they could get up a dance. Immediately they
paired off, lad and lassie, and started down the sandy road. And each
lad walked with his sweetheart--trust a child of seven to listen and to
know the love-affairs of his countryside. And behold, I, too, was a lad
with a lassie. A little Irish girl of my own age had been paired off
with me. We were the only children in this spontaneous affair. Perhaps
the oldest couple might have been twenty. There were chits of girls,
quite grown up, of fourteen and sixteen, walking with their fellows. But
we were uniquely young, this little Irish girl and I, and we walked hand
in hand, and, sometimes, under the tutelage of our elders, with my arm
around her waist. Only that wasn't comfortable. And I was very proud,
on that bright Sunday morning, going down the long bleak road among the
sandhills. I, too, had my girl, and was a little man.

The Italian rancho was a bachelor establishment. Our visit was hailed
with delight. The red wine was poured in tumblers for all, and the long
dining-room was partly cleared for dancing. And the young fellows drank
and danced with the girls to the strains of an accordion. To me that
music was divine. I had never heard anything so glorious. The young
Italian who furnished it would even get up and dance, his arms around his
girl, playing the accordion behind her back. All of which was very
wonderful for me, who did not dance, but who sat at a table and gazed
wide-eyed at the amazingness of life. I was only a little lad, and there
was so much of life for me to learn. As the time passed, the Irish lads
began helping themselves to the wine, and jollity and high spirits
reigned. I noted that some of them staggered and fell down in the
dances, and that one had gone to sleep in a corner. Also, some of the
girls were complaining, and wanting to leave, and others of the girls
were titteringly complacent, willing for anything to happen.

When our Italian hosts had offered me wine in a general sort of way, I
had declined. My beer experience had been enough for me, and I had no
inclination to traffic further in the stuff, or in anything related to
it. Unfortunately, one young Italian, Peter, an impish soul, seeing me
sitting solitary, stirred by a whim of