nce,
that she was engaged to him--or "as good as engaged."

The ball of the night before was under discussion at the breakfast
table. It was pronounced, on the whole, to have been a very good ball
and a fitting climax to the house party.

"Of course it is perfectly absurd for the old men to think they can
put that Buck girl into society by merely giving her a debut party,"
said Mildred. "It takes something besides good clothes and an
introduction to place people."

"How about beauty and intelligence and character?" asked Jeff.

"Well, tastes differ as to beauty, and if she had any sense she would
know enough not to try to push herself where she isn't wanted. I don't
think it is indicative of a very good character to accept clothes from
a man. I heard, on very good authority, that a man gave her her dress.
He paid a pretty penny for it, too, I am sure. Nan and I looked at
some gowns like hers when we were in Louisville and they were too
steep for us, I can tell you."

"I know about the dress. She told me," said Jeff.

"Ah, things have progressed pretty far with you," sneered his sister.
"Perhaps she was letting you know she was by way of receiving gifts of
such a character from her admirers."

Jeff couldn't trust himself to speak calmly in rebuttal of Mildred's
accusations and so he left the room. One thing he had determined, and
that was to cut his time of recreation short and knuckle down to the
practice of law immediately. A spirit of antagonism was developing
between brother and sister that greatly distressed Jeff. He had no
doubt that he was somewhat to blame, but at the same time Mildred was
spoiled and petulant and overbearing. He doubted her kindness of
heart, too, since he had witnessed her cruelty in regard to Cousin Ann
Peyton and Judith Buck. He also decided to try a hazard of new
fortunes in Louisville rather than Ryeville as his family had
planned.

Jeff was glad that the house party was breaking up. Perhaps now Buck
Hill would settle down into peace and quiet and he would have a chance
to discuss his affairs with his father and mother. He was glad that he
would no longer be called upon to do the impossible--to fall in love
with the dark beauty, Jean Roland, when for days and nights, in his
mind's eye, was ever the picture of a fair girl with a halo of
red-gold hair. He was glad, too, that the obnoxious Tom Harbison would
be leaving. It was only lately that he had felt Tom to be obnoxious.
If Har