“I gave you credit for more artfulness, Brad. The first time you met Mabel you were on your guard, and you upset all her preconceived notions of you. Don’t spoil it all to-night. You can’t keep her to yourself every minute of the time.”
“I notice my pard is hanging onto June Arlington right solid. There they are waltzing together.”
“But he hasn’t seen her for a long time. It’s different with you and Mabel. Now, look at Jack and me. Where is he? I haven’t the remotest idea. Brad Buckhart, if you don’t dance with me I shall be a wall flower. You’re going to dance.”
“I reckon I am,” said Brad submissively. “I hope you can stand for it.”
“Why, you’re really a splendid waltzer,” said Bab, after they had swept once round the floor. “Somehow, I didn’t fancy you were.”
“That’s it,” he muttered, “and I’ll bet Mabel thought the same. If that’s the case, I won’t trouble her. I’ll dance with somebody else.”
Bab laughed.
“You are the most jealous, touchy person I ever saw, Brad Buckhart. Why, you’re worse than the Virginian you dislike so much.”
“I don’t dislike him, begging your pardon. I thought I did once, but I guess he’s all right in his way. We don’t tie to each other a whole lot, but there’s no longer any hard feelings. We have planted the tomahawk. If Mabel likes him better than she does me, she sure can have him as much as she wants.”
Dale Sparkfair and Agnes Locke swung past them. Spark was laughing and chattering as if he had not a care in the world. Certainly, trouble sat lightly on the shoulders of this irresponsible fellow. Nevertheless, Spark caught his breath on passing the wide door of the dance room and discovering Jim Hanks standing there, hands in pockets, serenely following Dale with his dark eyes.