the prairie, came up to claim the girl.

"Hallo, Pickles," said Bill, quietly turning upon the newcomer and
ignoring Jacky's question. "Thought you said you weren't coming in
to-night?"

"Neither was I," the man addressed as "Pickles" retorted, "but Miss
Jacky promised me two dances," he went on, in strong Irish brogue; "that
settled it. How d'ye do, Mrs. Abbot? Come along, Miss Jacky, we're
losing half our dance."

The girl took the proffered arm and was about to move off. She turned
and spoke to "Lord" Bill over her shoulder.

"How much?"

Bill shrugged his shoulders in a deprecating fashion. The same gentle
smile hovered round his sleepy eyes.

"Three thousand dollars."

Jacky glided off into the already dancing throng.

For a moment the Hon. Bunning-Ford and Mrs. Abbot watched the girl as
she glided in and out amongst the dancers, then, with a sigh, the old
lady turned to her companion. Her kindly wrinkled old face wore a sad
expression and a half tender look was in her eyes as they rested upon
the man's face. When she spoke, however, her tone was purely
conversational.

"Are you not going to dance?"

"No," abstractedly. "I think I've had enough."

"Then come and sit by me and help to cheer an old woman up."

"Lord" Bill smiled as he seated himself upon the lounge.

"I don't think there is much necessity for my cheering influence, Aunt
Margaret. Amongst your many other charming qualities cheerfulness is not
the least. Doesn't Jacky look lovely to-night?"

"To-night?--always."

"Yes, of course--but Jacky always seems to surpass herself under
excitement. One would scarcely expect it, knowing her as we do. But she
is as wildly delighted with dancing as any miss fresh from school."

"And why not? It is little pleasure that comes into her life. An
orphan--barely twenty-two--with the entire responsibility of her uncle's
ranch upon her shoulders. Living in a very hornet's nest of blacklegs
and--and--"

"Gamblers," put in the man, quietly.

"Yes," Aunt Margaret went on defiantly, "gamblers. With the certain
knowledge that the home she struggles for, through no fault of her own,
is passing into the hands of a man she hates and despises--"

"And who by the way is in love with her." "Lord" Bill's mouth was
curiously pursed.

"What pleasure can she have?" exclaimed Mrs. Abbot, vehemently.
"Sometimes, much as I am attached to John, I feel as if I should like
to--to bang him!"

"Poor old John!" Bill's