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argaret was dancing with Richard Hunt when she saw his eyes searching for her through the room, and she gave him a radiant smile that almost stunned him. She had been haughty and distant when he went to her to plead forgiveness: she had been too hard, and Margaret, too, was repentant. "Why, who's that?" asked Richard Hunt. "Oh, yes," he added, getting his answer from Margaret's face. "Bless me, but he's fine--the very spirit of '76. I must have him in the Rifles." "Will you make him a lieutenant?" asked Margaret. "Why, yes, I will," said Mr. Hunt, decisively. "I'll resign myself in his favor, if it pleases you." "Oh, no, no--no one could fill your place." "Well, he can, I fear--and here he comes to do it. I'll have to retreat some time, and I suppose I'd as well begin now." And the gallant gentleman bowed to Chad. "Will you pardon me, Miss Margaret? My mother is calling me." "You must have keen ears," said Margaret; "your mother is upstairs." "Yes; but she wants me. Everybody wants me, but--" he bowed again with an imperturbable smile and went his way. Margaret looked demurely into Chad's eager eyes. "And how is the spirit of '76?" "The spirit of '76 is unchanged." "Oh, yes, he is; I scarcely knew him." "But he's unchanged; he never will change." Margaret dropped her eyes and Chad looked around. "I wish we could get out of here." "We can," said Margaret, demurely. "We will!" said Chad, and he made for a door, outside which lanterns were swinging in the wind. Margaret caught up some flimsy garment and wound it about her pretty round throat--they call it a "fascinator" in the South. Chad looked down at her. "I wish you could see yourself; I wish I could tell you how you look." "I have," said Margaret, "every time I passed a mirror. And other people have told me. Mr. Hunt did. He didn't seem to have much trouble." "I wish I had his tongue." "If you had, and nothing else, you wouldn't have me"--Chad started as the little witch paused a second, drawling--"leaving my friends and this jolly dance to go out into a freezing yard and talk to an aged Colonial who doesn't appreciate his modern blessings. The next thing you'll be wanting, I suppose--will be--" "You, Margaret; you--YOU!" It had come at last and Margaret hardly knew the choked voice that interrupted her. She had turned her back to him to sit down. She paused a moment, standing. Her eyes closed; a slight tremor ran
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