ound amusement
in mingling with those he deemed his inferiors even while patently
bidding for their admiration and regard. His height and breadth of
shoulder made him conspicuous even in this gathering of tall men. His
finely shaped head was well set but in contrast his utterly
inconsequential nose came as something of a shock. His face was florid
and genial and he had a word for the most obscure.

Yet the trained and sensitive observer would have felt capabilities for
boorishness beneath his amiability, a lack of sincerity in his impartial
and too fulsome compliments. His manner denoted a degree of social
training and a knowledge of social forms acquired in another than his
present environment, but he was too fond of the limelight--it cheapened
him; too broad in his attentions to women--it coarsened him; his
waistcoat was the dingy waistcoat of a man of careless habits; his linen
was not too immaculate and the nails of his blunt fingers showed lack of
attention. He was the sort of man who is nearly, but not quite, a
gentleman.

The slim little belle of Crowheart seemed to be everywhere, her youthful
spirits were unflagging, and her contagious, merry laugh rang out
constantly from the centre of lively groups. Her features were delicate
and there was pride, sensitiveness and good-breeding in her mouth with
its short, red upper lip. Her face held more than prettiness, for there
was thoughtfulness, as well, in her blue eyes and innate kindness in its
entire expression. Her light brown hair was soft and plentiful and added
to her stature by its high dressing. She was natural of manner and
graceful with the ease of happy youth and her flushed cheeks were pinker
than her simple gown. She looked farther removed from her occupation
than any woman in the room and to Dr. Harpe, following her with her
eyes, the connection seemed incongruous.

"Moses!" she whispered to herself, "but that little biscuit-shooter
would be a winner if she had clothes."

Other eyes than Dr. Harpe's were following Essie Tisdale and with an
intentness which finally attracted her attention. She stopped as she was
passing a swarthy, silent man in the corner, who had not moved from his
chair since the beginning of the dance, and, arching her eyebrows, she
asked mischievously:

"Don't you mean to ask me for a single dance, Mr. Dubois--not one?"

To her surprise and the amusement of all who heard, he arose at once,
bending his squat figure in an awkward