I stared in
amazement and consternation; for I recognized in the fair stranger Miss
Urania Mannersley, the Congregational minister's niece!

Everybody knew Rainie Mannersley throughout the length and breadth of
the Encinal. She was at once the envy and the goad of the daughters of
those Southwestern and Eastern immigrants who had settled in the valley.
She was correct, she was critical, she was faultless and observant. She
was proper, yet independent; she was highly educated; she was suspected
of knowing Latin and Greek; she even spelled correctly! She could wither
the plainest field nosegay in the hands of other girls by giving the
flowers their botanical names. She never said "Ain't you?" but "Aren't
you?" She looked upon "Did I which?" as an incomplete and imperfect
form of "What did I do?" She quoted from Browning and Tennyson, and was
believed to have read them. She was from Boston. What could she possibly
be doing at a free-and-easy fandango?

Even if these facts were not already familiar to everyone there, her
outward appearance would have attracted attention. Contrasted with
the gorgeous red, black, and yellow skirts of the dancers, her
plain, tightly fitting gown and hat, all of one delicate gray, were
sufficiently notable in themselves, even had they not seemed, like the
girl herself, a kind of quiet protest to the glaring flounces before
her. Her small, straight waist and flat back brought into greater relief
the corsetless, waistless, swaying figures of the Mexican girls, and her
long, slim, well-booted feet, peeping from the stiff, white edges of her
short skirt, made their broad, low-quartered slippers, held on by the
big toe, appear more preposterous than ever. Suddenly she seemed
to realize that she was standing there alone, but without fear or
embarrassment. She drew back a little, glancing carelessly behind her
as if missing some previous companion, and then her eyes fell upon mine.
She smiled an easy recognition; then a moment later, her glance rested
more curiously upon Enriquez, who was still by my side. I disengaged
myself and instantly joined her, particularly as I noticed that a few of
the other bystanders were beginning to stare at her with little reserve.

"Isn't it the most extraordinary thing you ever saw?" she said quietly.
Then, presently noticing the look of embarrassment on my face, she went
on, more by way of conversation than of explanation:

"I just left uncle making a call on a par