ad shoulders and rounding chest, her well-formed head,
and the artistic arrangement of her abundant hair. There was
something, too, in the tasteful simplicity of her gray tailor-made gown
that reminded Westerfelt of the dress of young ladies he had seen on
short visits to the larger towns in the State.

Her companion was the most conspicuous person in the room. He was
above medium height, and had a splendid physique--broad shoulders,
muscular limbs, light brown eyes, short brown beard, and long curling
hair. He wore a navy-blue sack-coat, large checked trousers tucked in
the tops of his boots, a gray woollen shirt, and a broad leather belt.
He was the only man in the room who had not taken off his hat. It was
very broad, the brim was pinned up on one side by a little brass
ornament, and he wore it on the back of his head.

Westerfelt caught the eye of his partner, and asked: "Who is the fellow
with the hat on?"

"Don't you know him?" she asked, in surprise. "Why, that's Toot
Wambush, Sarah's brother."

"Why don't he take off his hat?"

"For want of better sense, I reckon." Then she laughed, impulsively.
"I'll tell you why he always keeps it on in the house. He was at a
party over at Sand Bank last spring, an'--"

"Han's to yo' pahtners!" cried out Uncle Mack, as he drew his bow
across three or four strings at once, producing a harmony of bass,
alto, and treble sounds. "Salute de lady on yo' right!"

Whack!

The bridge of the fiddle had fallen. Everybody laughed over Uncle
Mack's discomfiture, as he rubbed the rosin out of his eyes and
grunted, half amused, half vexed at the accident. He held the violin
between his knees and proceeded to adjust the bridge.

"You were telling me why that fellow keeps on his hat," Westerfelt
reminded his partner.

"Oh yes!" laughed the girl, "that's so. Toot's never satisfied if he
ain't in a row o' some sort. He will always manage to pick a quarrel
out of something. He's mighty troublesome, especially when he's
drinkin'. He was pretty full over there that night, an' kept dancin'
with his hat on. Mis' Lumpkin, who give the dance, asked 'im quietly
to take it off an' behave like a gentleman. That made 'im mad, an' he
swore he'd die first. Then some o' the boys tuk Mis' Lumpkin's part,
an' tol' 'im the hat would come off ur he'd go out. It 'ud be a treat
to see Toot Wambush mad if you could feel sure you wouldn't get hit.
He clamped his hands together behind 'i