Madelon glanced at the hearth, where she had laid the wood
symmetrically--all ready to be kindled at a moment's notice should
Burr come. "I'll light the fire," said she, in a trembling voice.

"No, I can't stop," returned the young man. "I've got to go right up
to the tavern. Look here, Madelon--"

"Well?" she murmured, trembling.

"I want to know if--look here, won't you lilt for the dancing
to-night, Madelon?"

Madelon's face changed. "That's all he came for," she thought. She
turned away from him. "You'd better get Luke Corliss to fiddle," she
said, coldly.

"We can't. I started to go over there, and I met a man that lives
next door to him, and he said it was no use, for Luke had gone down
to Winfield to fiddle at a ball there."

"I don't feel like lilting to-night," said Madelon.

The young man colored. "Well," said he, in a stiff, embarrassed
voice, and he turned towards the door, "we won't have any ball
to-night, that's all," he added.

"Well, you can go visiting instead," returned Madelon, suddenly.

"I'd rather go a-visiting--here!" cried Burr, with a quick fervor,