revive the old
weekly dancing club. Otherwise they might not meet again for months, now
that Mr. Gwynne has settled down to his studies and hasn't been near
Rosewater since Monday. They agreed, but of course no one would offer
her house; they are all too mean, and mine is too small. But we can hire
the old hall, and all the men will be glad to subscribe--a few of us can
make up the deficit. Dolly always looks her best at night--she has the
loveliest neck!--and she would be glad of an excuse to get more party
dresses. Well--you see! You can always sleep at my house."

"What fun it will be to have a weekly dance! I am going out to Lumalitas
this afternoon, and I will demand Mr. Gwynne's subscription."

"Isabel! You are a jewel! Mrs. Haight was nasty, but I told her she did
not know you the least little bit, that you were no dog in the manger.
But, dear Isabel, do you think you ought to go out there alone? I don't
mind; you know that I never bother my head about other people's affairs,
but Mrs. Haight is such a gossip, and she never did like you, and all
small places are so gossipy. She has been telling everybody that Mr.
Gwynne rides past her house quite late at night from duck-shooting, and
of course she assumes that you shoot with him."

"I generally do. You may tell Mrs. Haight, with my compliments, to go to
the devil! Still, dear Anabel, if you think it improper for me to call
alone on a bachelor cousin, I will pick up somebody on my way out."

"Do, that's a dear. And I shall tell Mrs. Haight that old Mac always
goes shooting with you. I am sure that he does. Good-bye. I'll see about
the hall this afternoon."

She drove off with lifted reins and a little flourish of her whip, and
Isabel went into the house and telephoned first to Gwynne, who had
installed a private wire between his house and hers, and then to Miss
Boutts. At two o'clock she drew rein before a large brown shingle house
on the highest point of Rosewater. Mr. Boutts had begun life in one of
the little old peaked cottages down by the central square; later he had
built an "artistic" cottage, and then a "residence"; symbolizing his
increase not only by the more pretentious structures but by mounting the
hill; the second cottage had been half-way up, the residence was on its
apex, and could be seen by the envious traveller on boat and train.
There was nothing left before him now but San Francisco or a balloon;
heaven being out of the question.

Miss Bo