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I made no reply. He looked momentous, leaned to me sidewise with a hand horizontally across his mouth, and whispered a name. It was new to me. "Charlie Toliver?" I murmured, for we were at the tent door.

Through the open windows we could see the dancers. Now and then a pair of fanning promenaders came down the veranda, but on descrying us turned back. I said I was keeping her from the dance. To which she replied, drooping her head again, that she shouldn't dance that night.

"I shall count myself honored," said I, and we went, together and alone.

"Hmm; Charlotte Oliver. Are you sure you have the name just right?"

"Halt! Turn as I turn, and keep your eye on this."

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