already partly mortgaged, was not yet picked. He knew that some
young fellows in town rented dress suits from Solomon Cohen, who,
though he kept only four suits in stock at a time, would send to New
York for others to rent out on this occasion, and return them
afterwards. But Ben would not wear another man's clothes. He had borne
insults from Graciella that he never would have borne from any one
else, and that he would never bear again; but there were things at
which his soul protested. Nor would Cohen's suits have fitted him. He
was so much taller than the average man for whom store clothes were
made.

He remained in a state of indecision until the day of the ball. Late
in the evening he put on his black cutaway coat, which was getting a
little small, trousers to match, and a white waistcoat, and started to
town on horseback so as to arrive in time for the ball, in case he
should decide, at the last moment, to take part.

_Twenty-three_

The Opera House was brilliantly lighted on the night of the Assembly
Ball. The dancers gathered at an earlier hour than is the rule in the
large cities. Many of the guests came in from the country, and
returned home after the ball, since the hotel could accommodate only a
part of them.

When Ben Dudley, having left his horse at a livery stable, walked up
Main Street toward the hall, carriages were arriving and discharging
their freight. The ladies were prettily gowned, their faces were
bright and animated, and Ben observed that most of the gentlemen wore
dress suits; but also, much to his relief, that a number, sufficient
to make at least a respectable minority, did not. He was rapidly
making up his mind to enter, when Colonel French's carriage, drawn by
a pair of dashing bays and driven by a Negro in livery, dashed up to
the door and discharged Miss Graciella Treadwell, radiantly beautiful
in a new low-cut pink gown, with pink flowers in her hair, a thin
gold chain with a gold locket at the end around her slender throat,
white slippers on her feet and long white gloves upon her shapely
hands and wrists.

Ben shrank back into the shadow. He had never been of an envious
disposition; he had always looked upon envy as a mean vice, unworthy
of a gentleman; but for a moment something very like envy pulled at
his heartstrings. Graciella worshipped the golden calf. _He_
worshipped Graciella. But he had no money; he could not have taken her
to the ball in a closed carriage, dra