wisht I could dance all the dances there'll be in your life with
you.... Come on. This here's a quadrille."

Pliny Pickett, self-appointed caller of square dances, was arranging the
floor. "One more couple wanted to this end," he bellowed. "Here's two
couples a-waitin'. Don't hang back. Music's a-waitin'.... Right there.
All ready?... Nope. One couple needed in the middle."

Homer and Yvette approached that square where three couples awaited the
fourth to complete their set. They took their places, to the manifest
embarrassment of the other six. Suddenly Norma Grainger whispered
something to her young man and tugged at his arm. He looked sidewise,
sheepishly, at Homer, and hung back.

"You come right along," said Norma. "I hain't goin' to have it said of
me that I danced in no set with her."

"Nor me," said Marion Towne, also tugging at her escort.

The young men were forced to give way, and, not too proud to cast
glances of placating nature at Homer, they fell from their places and
walked to the benches around the hall. Yvette and Homer were left
standing alone, conspicuous, the center of all eyes.

Homer clenched his fists and glared about him; then--for in his ungainly
body there resided something that is essential to manhood, and without
which none may be called a gentleman--he offered his arm to Yvette. "I
guess we better go," he said, softly. Then squaring his powerful
shoulders and glancing about him with a real dignity which Scattergood
Baines, sitting in one corner, noted and applauded, he led the girl from