“How’s that, Miss?” exclaimed poor Ike.
“I haven’t had an invitation to dance yet,” pursued Madge. “If I had scarletina, or the measles—or even the mumps—I do not think I should be more avoided by the male portion of the assembly. What do you suppose is the matter with me, Mr. Stedman?”
“Why, I—I——”
Ike was on the verge of declaring that he would find her a partner if he had to use a gun to get one to come forward; but he was inspired for once to do the right thing. He really bowed before Madge with something of a flourish, as the tinkle of the violin strings began again.
“If you think you can stand me, Miss Steele,” declared the big foreman, “I’d be near about tickled to death to lead you out myself.”
“You are very good,” said Madge, demurely. “But are you sure—I think that pretty little teacher is looking this way. You are not neglecting any old friends for me I hope, Mr. Stedman?”
Ike’s face flamed again furiously. He stole a glance at Sally Dickson, who had just refused Jimsey for a partner—and with sharpness.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be a whole lot better off with you, Miss,” he admitted. “Jest now, especially.”
Madge’s ringing laugh caught Sally’s ear, as the Eastern girl bore the foreman of Silver Ranch off to join the next set of dancers. The teacher did not dance that number at all.
Mrs. “Jule” Marvin, the young and buxom wife of the owner of the Two-Ten Ranch, caught Ike’s hand and whispered loudly: