"Take your position, Maude?" asked William Henry calmly, ignoring Melvale.
"Yes, Bill Henry," said his sweetheart, hurriedly; "I'm to be the Goddess of Truth on that float there."
William Henry turned and looked at the float. Then he stood off a step or two and studied Maude's make up. "I've never seen you look handsomer," he said, slowly, "but somehow you don't seem natural. I'd rather have met you again when you were not so full of paint and powder. I loved you always just as you were, without fancy fixings."
The bell was getting farther away.
"Come, Miss Preston," urged Melvale. "We will have to hurry."
For the first time William Henry recognized the presence of Melvale.
"She ain't going, Mister," declared William Henry, ungrammatically, but firmly.
"Not going!" screamed Melvale.
"Oh! Bill," stammered Maude, "they've gone to such a lot of expense and trouble! And they've been so kind to me!"
"I don't care," returned William Henry. "Down in Accomac we don't like this theatre business for girls we love, and I tell you I am not going to see you in that parade, showing yourself off to all Baltimore and thousands more, too. Who knows how many people are here from down home? If you want this notoriety and fuss, Maude," he went on sternly, "I can leave again."