hension upon the thin,
expressionless face of Annie Pilgreen, backed diffidently into a
corner. He hoped and he feared that she would discover him and lead
him out to dance; she had done that once, at the Labor Day ball, and he
had not slept soundly for several nights after.

Someone laid proprietary hand upon his cinnamon-brown coat sleeve, and
he jumped and blushed; it was only the schoolma'am, however, smiling up
at him ingratiatingly in a manner wholly bewildering to a simple minded
fellow like Happy Jack. She led him into another corner, plumped
gracefully and with much decision down upon a bench, drew her skirts
aside to make room for him and announced that she was tired and wanted
a nice long talk with him. Happy Jack, sending a troubled glance after
Annie, who was leading Joe Meeker out to dance, sighed a bit and sat
down obediently--and thereby walked straight into the loop which the
schoolma'am had spread for his unwary feet.

The schoolma'am was sitting out an astonishing number of dances--for a
girl who could dance from dark to dawn and never turn a hair--and the
women were wondering why. If she had sat them out with Weary Davidson
they would have smiled knowingly and thought no more of it; but she did
not. For every dance she had a different companion, and in every case
it ended in that particular young man looking rather scared and
unhappy. After five minutes of low-toned monologue on the part of the
schoolma'am, Happy Jack went the way of his predecessors and also
became scared and unhappy.

"Aw, say! Miss Satterly, _I_ can't act," he protested in a panic.

"Oh, yes, you could," declared the schoolma'am, with sweet assurance,
"if you only thought so."

"Aw, I couldn't get up before a crowd and say a piece, not if--"

"I'm not sure I want you to. There are other things to an
entertainment besides reciting things. I only want you to promise that
you will help me out. You will, won't you?" The schoolma'am's eyes,
besides being pretty, were often disconcertingly direct in their gaze.

Happy Jack wriggled and looked toward the door, which suddenly seemed a
very long way off. "I--I've got to go up to the Falls, along about
Christmas," he stuttered feebly, avoiding her eyes. "I--I can't get
off any other time, and I've--I've got a tooth--"

"You're the fifth Flying-U man who has 'a tooth,'" the schoolma'am
interrupted impatiently. "A dentist ought to locate in Dry Lake; from
what I have he