ts for "Money Musk"; it was "ladies' choice," and
there was a demand for more couples. The young lady came ever to Cy's
corner and laughingly dropped him a courtesy.

"If you please," she said, "I want a partner. Will you do me the honor?"

Cy blushingly avowed that he couldn't dance any to speak of.

"Oh, yes, you can! I'm sure you can. You're the Whittaker boy, aren't
you? I've heard about your barn lessons. And I want you to try this
with me. Please do. No, John," she added, turning to the sunburned young
fellow who had followed her across the room; "this is my choice and here
is my partner. Susie Taylor is after you and you mustn't run away. Come,
Mr. Whittaker."

So Cy took her arm and they danced "Money Musk" together. He made but
a few mistakes, and these she helped him to correct so easily that none
noticed. His success gave him courage and he essayed other dances; in
fact, he had a very good time at the party after all.

On the way home he thought a great deal about the pretty young lady,
whose name he discovered was Emily Richards. He decided that if she
would only wait for him, he might like to marry her when he grew up.
But he was thirteen and she was seventeen, and the very next year she
married John Thayer, the sailor in the blue suit. And two years after
that young Cy ran away to be a sailor himself.

In spite of his age and his lifetime of battering about the world,
Captain Cy had a sentimental streak in his makeup; his rejuvenation of
the old home proved that. Betsy's letter interested him. He had made
guarded inquiries concerning Mary Thayer, now Mary Thomas, of others
besides Asaph, and the answers had been satisfactory so far as they
went; those who remembered her had liked her very much. The captain
had even begun a letter to Mrs. Thomas, but laid it aside unfinished,
having, since Bailey's unfortunate experience with the widow Beasley, a
prejudice against experiments.

But this evening, before Mr. Tidditt called, he had been thinking that
something would have to be done and done soon. The generally shiftless
condition of his domestic surroundings was getting to be unbearable.
Dust and dirt did not fit into his mental picture of the old home as
it used to be and as he had tried to restore it. There had been neither
dust nor dirt in his mother's day.

He meditated and smoked for another hour. Then, his mind being made up,
he pulled down the desk lid of the old-fashioned secretary, resurrected