And as he rose, Fairchild saw that she was just
entering the dance hall.

Quaint in an old-fashioned costume which represented more the Civil War
days than it did those of the boom times of silver mining, she seemed
prettier than ever to Robert Fairchild, more girlish, more entrancing.
The big eyes appeared bigger now, peeping from the confines of a poke
bonnet; the little hands seemed smaller with their half-length gloves
and shielded by the enormous peacock feather fan they carried. Only a
moment Fairchild hesitated. Maurice Rodaine, attired in a mauve frock
suit and the inevitable accompanying beaver, had stopped to talk to
some one at the door. She stood alone, looking about the hall,
laughing and nodding,--and then she looked at him! Fairchild did not
wait.

From the platform at the end of the big room the fiddles had begun to
squeak, and the caller was shouting his announcements. Couples began
to line up on the floor. The caller's voice grew louder:

"Two more couples--two more couples! Grab yo' podners!"

Fairchild was elbowing his way swiftly forward, apologizing as he went.
A couple took its place beside the others. Once more the plea of the
caller sounded:

"One more couple--then the dance starts. One more couple, lady an' a
gent! One more--"

"Please!" Robert Fairchild had reached her and was holding forth his
hand. She looked up in half surprise, then demurred.

"But I don't know these old dances."

"Neither do I--or any other, for that matter," he confessed with sudden
boldness. "But does that make any difference? Please!"

She glanced quickly toward the door. Maurice Rodaine was still
talking, and Fairchild saw a little gleam come into her eyes,--the
gleam that shows when a woman decides to make some one pay for
rudeness. Again he begged:

"Won't you--and then we 'll forget. I--I could n't take my payment in
money!"

She eyed him quickly and saw the smile on his lips. From the platform
the caller voiced another entreaty:

"One more cou-ple! Ain't there no lady an' gent that's goin' to fill
out this here dance? One more couple--one more couple!"

Fairchild's hand was still extended. Again Anita Richmond glanced
toward the door, chuckled to herself while Fairchild watched the
dimples that the merriment caused, and then--Fairchild forgot the fact
that he was wearing hobnailed shoes and that his clothes were worn and
old. He was going forward to take his place on the danc