Hannah jumped up, electrified, as the sash went down behind her.

“John!  John!  There’s folks in there!”

“S’pose likely,” said John, with quiet relish of amends.  “What’s good for me ’ill do for them!”

CHAPTER VI.

DAKIE THAYNE.

“Grimgriffinhoof won’t speak to you to-night,” said Jeannie Hadden, after tea, upon the balcony.

She was mistaken.  There was something different, still, in Leslie Goldthwaite’s look, as she came out under the sunset light, from the looks that prevailed in the Thoresby group when they, too, made their appearance.  The one moved self-forgetfully,—­her consciousness and thought sent forth, not fluttering in her robes and ribbons; with the others there was a little air and bustle, as of people coming into an opera-box in presence of a full house.  They said “lovely!” and “splendid!” of course,—­their little word of applause for the scenic grandeur of mountain and heaven, and then the half of them turned their backs upon it, and commenced talking together about whether waterfalls were really to be given up or not, and of how people were going to look in high-crowned bonnets.

Mrs. Linceford told the “hummux” story to Marmaduke Wharne.  The old man laughed till the Thoresby party turned to see.

“But I like one thing,” he said.  “The woman was honest.  Her ’black alpacky’ was most to her, and she owned up to it.”

The regular thing being done, outside, the company drifted back, as the shadows fell, to the parlor again.  Mrs. Linceford’s party moved also, and drifted with the rest.  Marmaduke Wharne, quite graciously, walked after.  The Lancers was just forming.

“The bear is playing tame and amiable,” whispered Jeannie.  “But he’ll eat you up, for all that.  I wouldn’t trust him.  He’s going to watch, to see how wicked you’ll be.”

“I shall let him see,” replied Leslie quietly.

“Miss Goldthwaite, you’re for the dance to-night?  For the ’bright and kind and pleasant,’ eh?” the “bear” said, coming to her side within the room.

“If anybody asks me,” answered Leslie, with brave simplicity.  “I like dancing—­very much.”

“I’ll find you a partner, then,” said Mr. Wharne.

She looked up, surprised; but he was quite in earnest.  He walked across the room, and brought back with him a lad of thirteen or so,—­well grown for his age, and bright and manly-looking; but only a boy, and a little shy and stiff at first, as boys have to be for a while.  Leslie had seen him before, in the afternoon, rolling the balls through a solitary game of croquet; and afterward taking his tea by himself at the lower end of the table.  He had seemed to belong to nobody, and as yet hardly to have got the “run” of the place.

“This is Master Thayne, Miss Leslie Goldthwaite, and I think he would like to dance, if you please.”