His eyes gravely lingered where she had gone. “She knowed me right away,” said he. He looked for a moment’ then leaned against the door. “’How warm it is!’ said she. Well, it ain’t so screechin’ hot hyeh; and as for rushin’ after Alfred and Christopher, when their natural motheh is bumpin’ around handy-- she cert’nly can’t be offended?” he broke off, and looked again where she had gone. And then Miss Wood passed him brightly again, and was dancing the schottische almost immediately. “Oh, yes, she knows me,” the swarthy cow-puncher mused. “She has to take trouble not to see me. And what she’s a- fussin’ at is mighty interestin’. Hello!” “Hello!” returned Lin McLean, sourly. He had just looked into the kitchen.

“Not dancin’?” the Southerner inquired.

“Don’t know how.” “Had scyarlet fever and forgot your past life?” Len grinned.

“Better persuade the schoolmarm to learn it. She’s goin’ to give me instruction.” “Huh!” went Mr. McLean, and skulked out to the barrel.

“Why, they claimed you weren’t drinkin’ this month!” said his friend, following.

“Well, I am. Here’s luck!” The two pledged in tin cups. “But I’m not waltzin’ with her,” blurted Mr. McLean grievously. “She called me an exception.” “Waltzin’,” repeated the Virginian quickly, and hearing the fiddles he hastened away.

Few in the Bear Creek Country could waltz, and with these few it was mostly an unsteered and ponderous exhibition; therefore was the Southerner bent upon profiting by his skill. He entered the room, and his lady saw him come where she sat alone for the moment, and her thoughts grew a little hurried.

“Will you try a turn, ma’am?” “I beg your pardon?” It was a remote, well-schooled eye that she lifted now upon him.

“If you like a waltz, ma’am, will you waltz with me?” “You’re from Virginia, I understand?” said Molly Wood, regarding him politely, but not rising. One gains authority immensely by keeping one’s seat. All good teachers know this.

“Yes, ma’am, from Virginia.” “I’ve heard that Southerners have such good manners.” “That’s correct.” The cow-puncher flushed, but he spoke in his unvaryingly gentle voice.

“For in New England, you know,” pursued Miss Molly, noting his scarf and clean-shaven chin, and then again steadily meeting his eye, “gentlemen ask to be presented to ladies before they ask them to waltz.” He stood a moment before her, deeper and deeper scarlet; and the more she saw his handsome face, the keener rose her excitement. She waited for him to speak of the river; for then she was going to be surprised, and gradually to remember, and finally to be very nice to him. But he did not wait. “I ask your pardon, lady,” said he, and bowing, walked off, leaving her at once afraid that he might not come back. But she had altogether mistaken her man. Back he came serenely with Mr. Taylor, and was duly presented to her. Thus were the conventions vindicated.

It can never be known what the cow-puncher was going to say next; for Uncle Hughey stepped up with a glass of water which he had left Wood to bring, and asking for a turn, most graciously received it. She danced away from a situation where she began to feel herself getting the worst of it. One moment the Virginian stared at his lady as she lightly circulated, and then he went out to the barrel.

Leave him for Uncle Hershey! Jealousy is a deep and delicate thing, and works its spite in many ways. The Virginian had been ready to look at Lin McLean with a hostile eye; but finding him now beside the barrel, he felt a brotherhood between himself and Lin, and his hostility had taken a new and whimsical direction.