d to exert it, and a laughing
light in his eyes, as if dancing was not important enough for that, and
nothing else was.

An ambitious pair, experimenting with the dip waltz, just introduced
that year, and pausing on the most awkward spots in the crowded floor,
blocked his path, and he swung heavily out of their way just in time,
squaring his chin and holding his head a shade higher. The girl in red
was whirled toward him in double-quick time, and he dodged,
miscalculated his distance, but met the shock of her squarely, whisking
Judith out of her way.

"Good try, Murph," her partner called.

Willard regarded the encounter disapprovingly from the door of the
gentlemen's dressing-room, to which he had edged his way. His was not an
expressive countenance, and that was a protection to him just now. He
was bewildered and deeply hurt, but he merely looked fat and slightly
puzzled, as usual.

"Judy turn you down?" inquired his friend Mr. Ward, also watching from
the dressing-room door, with the few other gentlemen who were without
partners for this dance. It was the most important dance of the evening,
for you danced it with the lady of your choice, or with nobody. It
cemented new intimacies or foreshadowed the breaking of old; settled
anew the continually agitated question of "who was going with who."

"Judy turn you down?" said Mr. Ward, but he meant it as a pleasantry.
Mr. Willard Nash was not often turned down, even at this early age. He
was too eligible.

"Rena turn you down, Ed?"

"Yes." Mr. Ward became suddenly confidential, and lowered his voice.
"Mad. She wanted me to get her a shinguard to mount tintypes
on--tintypes of the team."

"Buy it or steal it?" inquired Willard sarcastically.

"I offered to buy it," his friend confessed, "buy her a new pair, but
she wants one that's been used."

"You spoil Rena. You can't spoil a girl." They laughed wisely. "It don't
pay."

"Mad with Judy?"

"Well--no," said Willard magnanimously. He thought quite rapidly, as his
brain, not overworked at other times, could do in emergencies. "My feet
hurt. Pumps slip at the heel. I've been stuffing them out. Judy came
with me, but I had to be excused for this dance."

"Good thing for him."

"Who?"

"For Murph--for Neil Donovan. They'll all dance with him if she does;
though Judy don't know that. She's not stuck on herself, and never will
be. I didn't know she knew Murph."

"Well, you know it now," said Willard shortly,