at all
why he should have the preference.

"Surely," said Annette. "And sitting out is when you like a girl so
m-much that you would rather take her away to some quiet little corner
and talk to her than to d-dance with her."

"That'll never be me," cried Sandy--"not while the band plays."

"Shall we try it again?" she asked; and with much scoffing and
scolding on her part, and eloquent apologies and violent exertion on
his, they struggled onward toward success.

In the midst of the lesson there was a low whistle at the side
window. Annette dropped Sandy's hands and put her finger to her lips.

"It's Carter," she whispered. "D-dad doesn't allow him to come here."

"Little's the wonder," grumbled Sandy.

Annette's eyes were sparkling at the prospect of forbidden fruit. She
tiptoed to the window and opened the shutter a few inches.

At the opening Carter's face appeared. It was a pale, delicate face,
over-sensitive, over-refined, with the stamp of weakness on every
feature. His restless, nervous eyes were slightly bloodshot, and there
was a constant twitching about his lips. But as he pushed back the
shutter and leaned carelessly against the sill, there was an easy
grace in his figure and a devil-may-care light in his eyes that would
have stirred the heart of a maiden less susceptible than the one who
smiled upon him from between the muslin curtains.

He laughed lightly as he caught at a flying lock of her hair.

"You little coward! Why didn't you meet me?"

She frowned significantly and made warning gestures toward the
interior of the room.

At the far window, standing with his back to them, was Mr. Sandy
Kilday. He was engaged in a fierce encounter with an unnamed monster
whose eyes were green. During his pauses for breath he composed a few
comprehensive and scathing remarks which he intended to bestow upon
Miss Fenton at his earliest convenience. Fickleness was a thing not to
be tolerated. She had confessed her preference for him over all
others; she must and should prove it. Just when his indignation had
reached the exploding-point, he heard his name called.

"Sandy," cried Annette, "what do you think? Ruth is coming home!
Carter is on his way to the d-depot to meet her now. She's been gone
nearly a year. I never was so crazy to see anyb-body in all my life."

Sandy wheeled about. "Which depot?" he cried excitedly; and without
apologies or farewell he dashed out of the house and down the street.

When