, but the roguish gleam in her eyes changed to a curiously haughty
and disdainful look as she passed Blackler, who stood desolately beside
the door, looking awkward and sullen.

Milton was a great favorite, and he had no time to say anything more to
Bettie as peace-maker. He reached Ed as soon as possible.

"Ed, what's up between you and Bettie?"

"Oh, I don't know. I can't find out," Blackler replied, and he spurred
himself desperately into the fun.

III.

"It'll make Ed Blackler squirm t' see Betsey come in on Milt Jennings'
arm," said Bill to Shephard after Milton went out.

"Wal, chuss. I denk it will." Shephard was looking round the room, where
the old people were noisily eating supper, and the steaming oysters and
the cold chicken's savory smell went to his heart. One of the motherly
managers of the feast bustled up to him.

"Shephard, you c'n run over t' the house an' tell the young folks that
they can come over t' supper about eight o'clock; that'll be in a half
an hour. You understand?"

"Oh, I'm so hungry! Can't y' give me a hunk o' chicken t' stay m'
stomach?"

Mrs. Councill laughed. "I'll fish you out a drumstick," she said. And he
went away, gnawing upon it hungrily. Bill went with him, still belching
forth against Blackler.

"Jim said he heard _he_ said he'd slap my face f'r a cent. I wish he
would. I'd lick the life out of 'im in a minnit."

"Why don't you pitch into Milt? He's got her now. He's the one y'd orto
be dammin'."

"Oh, he don't mean nothin' by it. He don't care for her. I saw him down
to town at the show with the girl he's after. He's jest makin' Ed mad."

A game of "Copenhagen" was going on as they entered. Bettie was in the
midst of it, but Milton, in the corner, was looking on and talking with
a group of those who had outgrown such games.

The ring of noisy, flushed and laughter-intoxicated young people filled
the room nearly to the wall, and round and round the ring flew Bettie,
pursued by Joe Yohe.

"Go it, Joe!" yelled Bill.

"You're good f'r'im," yelled Shephard.

Milton laughed and clapped his hands. "Hot foot, Bettie!"

Like another Atalanta, the superb young girl sped, now dodging through
the ring, now doubling as her pursuer tried to catch her by turning
back. At last she made the third circuit, and, breathless and laughing,
took her place in the line. But Joe rushed upon her, determined to steal
a kiss anyhow.

"H'yare! H'yare! None o' that."

"Th