“You waltz and two-step and polka and schottische, don’t you?” Her eyes, as she looked up at him, reminded Billy achingly of that time in the line-camp when she asked him for a horse to ride home.  They had the same wistful, pleading look.  Billy gritted his teeth.

“Sure,” he answered again.

Miss Bridger sighed contentedly.  “I know it’s horribly mean and selfish of me, but you’re so good—­and I’ll make it up to you some time.  Really I will!  At some other dance you needn’t dance with me once, or look at me, even—­That will even things up, won’t it?”

“Sure,” said Billy for the third time.

They paced slowly, coming into view of the picnic crowd, hearing the incoherent murmur of many voices.  Miss Bridger looked at him uncertainly, laughed a little and spoke impulsively.  “You needn’t do it, Mr. Boyle, unless you like.  It’s only a joke, anyway; I mean, my throwing myself at you like that.  Just a foolish joke; I’m often foolish, you know.  Of course, I know you wouldn’t misunderstand or anything like that, but it is mean of me to drag you into it by the hair of the head, almost, just to play a joke on some one—­on Mama Joy.  You’re too good-natured.  You’re a direct temptation to people who haven’t any conscience.  Really and truly, you needn’t do it at all.”

“Yuh haven’t heard me raising any howl, have yuh?” inquired Billy, eying her slantwise.  “I’m playing big luck, if yuh ask me.”

“Well—­if you really don’t mind, and haven’t any one else—­”

“I haven’t,” Billy assured her unsmilingly.  “And I really don’t mind.  I think I—­kinda like the prospect.”  He was trying to match her mood and he was not at all sure that he was a success.  “There’s one thing.  If yuh get tired uh having me under your feet all the time, why—­Dilly’s a stranger and an awful fine fellow; I’d like to have you—­well, be kinda nice to him.  I want him to have a good time, you see, and you’ll like him.  You can’t help it.  And it will square up anything yuh may feel yuh might owe me—­”

“I’ll be just lovely to Dilly,” Miss Bridger promised him with emphasis.  “It will be a fair bargain, then, and I won’t feel so—­so small about asking you what I did.  You can help me play a little joke, and I’ll dance with Duly.  So,” she finished in a tone of satisfaction, “we’ll be even.  I feel a great deal better now, because I can pay you back.”

Billy, on that night, was more keenly observant than usual and there was much that he saw.  He saw at once that Miss Bridger lifted her eyebrows in the way she had demonstrated as this way, whenever the Pilgrim approached her.  He saw that the Pilgrim was looking extremely bloodthirsty and went out frequently—­Billy guessed shrewdly that his steps led to where the drink was not water—­and the sight cheered him considerably.  Yet it hurt him a little to observe that, when the Pilgrim was absent or showed no sign of meaning to intrude upon her, Miss Bridger did not lift her eyebrows consciously.  Still, she was at all times pleasant and friendly and he tried to be content.