time. Wal, I hope so, but I’ve a hunch you're not. For I've been watchin’ you. I saw you with Mr. Jenks.”
“Really, it’d only be honest to confess that—that I'm enjoying myself—when I forget how I happened to come,” said Lucy.
“So I reckoned. An’ you can have this dance with anyone you want.”
“But—you brought me here. Won't it look strange if you don’t dance with me?” she queried, with concern.
“Wal, the strangest thing that ever happened in this schoolhouse was for a Denmeade’s girl to dance with a Sprall,” he returned, bitterly.
“Oh! I am not your girl. . . . And I had not the remotest idea I was dancing with Bud Sprall. I only just found out. Mr. Jenks told me.”
“Say, you didn’t know it was Bud Sprall you danced with twice?” he demanded, with piercing eyes of doubt.
“Absolutely no. I never caught his name,” confessed Lucy.
“Wal, I'll be dog-goned! I wish everybody knew that. Shore I can tell my folks,” he said, ponderingly.
“Edd, I'm afraid I promised him another dance—after supper,” went on Lucy, nervously. She realized there was an undercurrent here, a force of antagonism quite beyond her. When his face turned white she was nearer the truth. Abruptly he wheeled to leave her, but Lucy was quick to catch his sleeve and draw him back. The dancers crowded them to the wall.
“Do not leave me alone,” she said, swiftly. “Remember that I am a stranger here. You brought me against my will. I can hardly be blamed for dancing with Bud Sprall when I did not know who he was.”
“Reckon that’s all right,” he replied, gazing down on her. “But you was sweet on Bud an’ you’ve shore turned Sam Johnson’s head.”
Lucy strove valiantly to keep her temper and find her
