"I will not dance again," laughed Maria. Her brother Rice could feel her
little figure tremble against him. "It is ridiculous to try."

"We must have you at Elvirade," said the governor's wife soothingly. "I
will not let the young people excite you to too much dancing there."

"Oh, Mrs. Edwards!" exclaimed Peggy Morrison. "I never do dance quite as
much anywhere else, or have quite as good a time, as I do at Elvirade."

"Hear these children slander me when I try to set an example of sobriety
in the Territory!"

"You shall not want a champion, Mrs. Edwards," said Rice Jones. "When I
want to be in grave good company, I always make a pilgrimage to
Elvirade."

"One ought to be grave good company enough for himself," retorted
Peggy, looking at Rice Jones with jealous aggressiveness. She was a
lean, sandy girl, at whom he seldom glanced, and her acrid girlhood
fought him. Rice Jones was called the handsomest man in Kaskaskia, but
his personal beauty was nothing to the ambitious force of his presence.
The parted hair fitted his broad, high head like a glove. His straight
nose extended its tip below the nostrils and shadowed the long upper
lip. He had a long chin, beautifully shaped and shaven clean as marble,
a mouth like a scarlet line, and a very round, smooth throat, shown by
his flaring collar. His complexion kept a cool whiteness which no
exposure tanned, and this made striking the blackness of his eyes and
hair.

"Please will you all go back into the drawing-room?" begged Maria. "My