icly into a dance
which I used to see on the Barbary Coast in 'Frisco. If they had seen
it danced out there I don't believe they'd be so anxious to imitate it
now."

Lorna and Baxter returned through the crowded merrymakers to their
seats, and sat down at the table.

"You need another cocktail," suggested Baxter, after sipping one
himself and forgetting the need for reserve in his remarks. "You
mustn't be a bum sport at a dance like this, Miss Barton."

"Oh, Mr. Baxter, I don't dare go home with a breath like cocktails.
You know Mary and I sleep together," objected Lorna.

"Don't worry about that, little girlie," said Baxter. "She won't mind
it to-night."

To Burke's keen ears there was a shade of hidden menace in the words.

"Come on, now, just this one," said Baxter coaxingly. "It won't hurt.
There's always room for one more."

What a temptation it was for the muscular policeman to swing around and
shake the miserable wretch as one would a cur!

But Bobbie had learned the value of controlling his temper; that is one
of the first requisites of a policeman's as well as of an army man's
life.

"Do you know, Mr. Baxter," said Lorna, after she had yielded to the
insistence of her companion, "that cocktail makes me a little dizzy. I
guess it will take me a long while to get used to such drinks. You
know, I've been brought up in an awfully old-fashioned way. My father
would simply kill me if he thought I drank beer--and as for cocktails
and highballs and horse's necks, and all those real drinks ... well, I
hate to think of it. Ha! ha!"

And she laughed in a silly way which made Burke know that she was
beginning to feel the effect.

"I wonder if I hadn't better assert myself right now?" he mused,
pretending to eat a morsel. "It would cause a commotion, but it would
teach her a lesson, and would teach her father to keep a closer watch."

Just then he heard his own name mentioned by the girl behind.

"Say, Mr. Baxter, you came just at the right time to-night. That Burke
who was calling on father is a stupid policeman, whom he met in the
hospital, and I was being treated to a regular sermon about life and
wickedness and a lot of tiresome rot. I don't like policemen, do you?"

"I should say not!" was Baxter's heartfelt answer.

They were silent an instant.

"A policeman, you say, eh?"

"Yes; I certainly don't think he's fit to call on nice people. The
next think we know father will have firemen a