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"Why didn't you come to see me the day after the ball?" asked Adelaide, breaking her silence at last.

Abner hesitated. "I wasn't sure you wanted to see me."

"Why—on account of the gossip?"

Abner was surprised and a little shocked at her coolness.

"Well—yes—the other girls turned aginst me."

Adelaide shrugged a shoulder. "They're silly—in this world a girl may get her frocks made to order, but not her husband."

The implication in this careless phrase caused a lifting sensation in Abner's midriff which marks a joyful surprise. He was on the verge of putting an arm around her very self-assured little waist and asking, "Do you love me, Adelaide, and will you marry me?" but she was so self-poised and self-contained that to mention love to Adelaide seemed somehow incongruous. He substituted in a slightly tense voice, "Did you see Buckingham Sharp that night, Adelaide?"

The girl glanced at him with a faint smile. "Certainly I did."

The youth grew more nervous.

"Well—are you—er—going to marry him?"

She shook her head in a slight negative.

Abner looked intently at the curve of her cheek over her furs. He had a nervous feeling of having come to the brink of a sharp turn in his life. He was half afraid she would laugh at him as he asked in a tone that caught somewhere in his throat, "Are—you—going to marry me—after all?"

He watched breathlessly, fearing a smile, when to his relief, her small bosom lifted in a little spasm.

"I—I think so, Abner," and she went on immediately as if justifying herself. "At least you are not conceited; and you don't think I'm just waiting to tumble in your arms. And you really are good-looking, and you will soon learn to dance, though, of course, I won't want to dance with you when you're my husband; and you have farms. . . ."