wering and a
dead, warm wind from the south. But there had been no sign of rain, and
now, as they alighted from the car at Exmoor station, they noticed that
the wind had shifted slightly to the east and freshened. The great
blanket of frowning black had broken, and a myriad of small clouds were
flying across the face of the moon like a flock of frightened sheep.
Molly shivered. She had often called herself a human barometer and her
spirits were apt to shift with the wind.

"The wind has changed," she observed to the doctor. "I feel it in my
bones."

"Correct," said the doctor, scanning the heavens critically. "There's no
flavoring extract so strong as a drop of East wind. Let us hope it will
hold back a bit until after the shindig."

With all its penetrating qualities, however, the drop of East wind did
not affect the air in the beautiful old dining hall of Exmoor, used
always for the larger entertainments. Its polished hardwood floor and
paneled walls, its two great open fireplaces, in which immense back logs
glowed cheerfully, made a picture that drove away all memory of bad
weather.

Then the music struck up. The dancers whirled and circled. Nance was in
a seventh heaven. Her cheeks glowed, her eyes shone, and she seemed to
float over the floor guided by the steady hand of young Andy; while his
father looked on and smiled laconically.

"Every laddie maun hae his lassie," he observed to his wife, "and it's
gude luck for him when he draws a plain one with a bonnie brown eye."

"She's not plain," objected Mrs. McLean.

"She has no furbelows in face nor dress that I can see," answered the
doctor.

"They're just a boy and a girl, Andrew. Don't be anticipating. There's
no telling how often they may change off before the settling time
comes."

"And was it your ainsel' that changed so often?" asked the doctor, with
a twinkle in his eye.

"Nay, nay, laddie," she protested, leaning on the doctor's arm
affectionately, "but those were steadier days, I'm thinking."

"There's not so muckle change," said the doctor, "when it comes to
sweethearting."

Many old-fashioned dances were introduced that night: the cottage
lancers, and Sir Roger de Coverly, led off by the doctor and his wife,
whose old-world curtseys were very amusing to the young dancers.

And while the fun waxed fast and furious indoors, outside queer things
were happening. The South wind, gently and insistently battling with the
East wind, had conquere