Round after round of applause swept over the room.  Men were talking in undertones to each other; women buzzed behind their fans.

She stopped, panting and flushed with pride, and with a certain scorn in her face and mien glanced over the audience.  Just as she was poising herself for another effort, her eye reached the side of the room where Keith stood just beside Miss Huntington.  A change passed over her face.  She nodded, hesitated for a second, and then began again.  She failed to catch the time of the music and danced out of time.  A titter came from the rear of the room.  She looked in that direction, and Keith did the same.  Ferdy Wickersham, with a malevolent gleam in his eye, was laughing.  The dancer flushed deeply, frowned, lost her self-possession, and stopped.  A laugh of derision sounded at the rear.

“For shame!  It is shameful!” said Lois Huntington in a low voice to Keith.

“It is.  The cowardly scoundrel!” He turned and scowled at Ferdy.

At the sound, Terpy took a step toward the front, and bending forward, swept the audience with her flashing eyes.

“Put that man out.”

A buzz of astonishment and laughter greeted her outbreak.

“Cackle, you fools!”

She turned to the musicians.

“Play that again and play it right, or I’ll wring your necks!”

She began to dance again, and soon danced as she had done at first.

Applause was beginning again; but at the sound she stopped, looked over the audience disdainfully, and turning, walked coolly from the stage.

“Who is she?” “Well, did you ever see anything like that!” “Well, I never did!” “The insolent creature!” “By Jove! she can dance if she chooses!” buzzed over the room.

“Good for her,” said Keith, his face full of admiration.

“Did you know her?” asked Miss Huntington.

“Well.”

The girl said nothing, but she stiffened and changed color slightly.

“You know her, too,” said Keith.

“I!  I do not.”

“Do you remember once, when you were a tot over in England, giving your doll to a little dancing-girl?—­When your governess was in such a temper?”

Lois nodded.

“That is she.  She used to live in New Leeds.  She was almost the only woman in Gumbolt when I went there.  Had a man laughed at her there then, he would never have left the room alive.  Mr. Wickersham tried it once, and came near getting his neck broken for it.  He is getting even with her now.”

As the girl glanced up at him, his face was full of suppressed feeling. 
A pang shot through her.

Just then the entertainment broke up and the guests began to leave.  Mrs. Wentworth beckoned to Lois.  Wickersham was still with her.

“I will not trust myself to go within speaking distance of him now,” said Keith; “so I will say good-by, here.”  He made his adieus somewhat hurriedly, and moved off as Mrs. Wentworth approached.