"Maybe Madelon would lilt for the dancing," Burr Gordon said; and
then he colored furiously, as if he had startled himself in saying
it.

The boy turned on him. "Maybe you think my sister will lilt for you
to dance, Burr Gordon!" cried he, and his face blazed white in Burr's
eyes, and he shook his slender brown fist.

"Nobody wants your sister to lilt if she isn't willing to," Burr
returned, in a hard voice; and he snatched up a hemlock bough, and
went away with it to the other side of the ball-room.

"My sister won't lilt for you, and you can have your ball the best
way you can!" shouted the boy, his angry eyes following Burr. Then he
went out of the ball-room with a leap, and slammed the door so that
the tavern trembled.

The young men chuckled. "Injun blood is up," said one.

"You'll be scalped, Burr," called the other.

Burr came over to them with an angry stride. "Oh, quit fooling!" said
he, impatiently. "What's going to be done?"

"Nothing can be done; we shall have to give the ball up for to-night
unless you can get Madelon Hautville to lilt for the dancing,"
returned one, and the other nodded assent. "That's the state of the
case," said he.

Burr scraped a foot impatiently on the waxed floor. "Go and ask her