There was an exchange of looks as the pair came up. The stylish operator lifted an eyebrow and drew down the corners of her mouth. The bookkeeper said, "Well!" with much significance,--but it remained for Mrs. Neifkins to give the real offense. The expression on her vapid face implied that she was aghast at their impudence. Gathering the fullness of her skirt as though to withdraw it from contamination she laid the other hand on her husband's arm: "There's a place over there, Myron, where we can get in."

"It's nearer the music," said Neifkins with an apologetic grin to the others.

Those who stayed had something of the air of brazening it out. In vain Mr. Butefish called sternly for, "One more couple this way!"

It was Scales of the Emporium who said, finally: "Looks like we don't dance--might as well sit down."

Every one acted on the suggestion with alacrity save Kate and Hughie. When he turned to her, he saw that she was swallowing hard at the lump that was choking her.

"It's on account of me that they act so, Hughie! You stay if you want to; I'm going."

"Stay here?" he cried in boyish passion. "You're the only lady in the room so far as I can see! What would I stay for?"

The citizens of Prouty were still deeply impressed by each other's pretensions, as the reputations the majority had left in their "home towns" had not yet caught up with them. Therefore, being greatly concerned about what his neighbor thought of him, no one would have dared be friendly to the ostracized couple even if he had the disposition.

Kate and Hughie walked out, very erect and looking straight ahead, followed by a feeling of satisfaction that this opportunity had presented itself for the new order to show where it stood in the matter of accepting doubtful characters on an equal social footing. It had properly vindicated itself of the charge that western society was lax in such matters. That they had hurt--terribly hurt--another, was of small importance.




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