“You’re almost as good-looking as Jimmy Day,” she said with a sudden chuckle.  “Run along, Doug.  You aren’t old enough to protect me from these bad men!” And she turned to dance with the waiting Jimmy.

It was nearing midnight when Douglas achieved his first dance with Inez.  She was the best dancer in the room, and Douglas told her so.

“I’ll bet you haven’t told that to the other girls,” she said with a flash of her white teeth.

“I have!  I said it to Jude when she turned me down for Dad.”

“Smart!  Helps both you and me with Jude, of course!”

“Much you care about that!” retorted Douglas.

“I like to be liked, of course,” said Inez.

“You do?” Douglas’ voice was so honestly incredulous that Inez exclaimed resentfully: 

“Am I so much worse than a lot of the kids at school?”

Douglas shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Judith’s straight.  I’ve kept her so.”

Inez laughed.  “Judith’s straight because she’s that kind of a girl.  Why don’t you watch your dad instead of Jude?”

Douglas’ lips tightened and Inez studied his face in silence for a moment; then she went on, “Pretty fond of Jude, aren’t you, Doug?  Your father is a devil with women—­that big, bossy, good-looking kind always is.  I tell Jude so every time I see her.”

“How often do you see her?” demanded Douglas quickly.

“I guess she has a right to come to my house as often as she wants to.”

“No, she hasn’t,” brusquely.

Inez sniffed, then smiled.  She had a frank and lovely smile.  Douglas’ face softened and they finished the waltz in silence.

Not all the music was of the cheaply popular variety.  Between dances Peter slipped on occasional opera records.  He was playing from Martha: 

“Ah, so pure, so bright,
Burst her beauty upon my sight,
Ah, so mild, ah, so divine
She beguiled this heart of mine.”

when a man called from the open door, “Good evening, folks!”

“Why, it’s Scott Parsons!” cried Grandma Brown.

There was a pause, during which the tender voice of the phonograph thrilled on.  Young Jeff, his red face even redder than his visits to the pail would warrant, put his hand to his hip.  Judith darted before him and ran the length of the room.

“Hello, Scott!  Welcome home!  The next dance is yours.”

“No, it’s not!” shouted John Spencer.  “You let Judith alone, you blank young outlaw you!”

“Get out of my way, Jude!” shouted Young Jeff.  “I told Scott not to come back to Lost Chief!”

He strode down the room, his hand still on his gun.  Scott’s hand had been equally quick.  Peter Knight turned off the machine.  “Hold on, Jeff!” he cried.  “You turned Scott over to the law, and the law acquitted him.  If you’d wanted to take things in your own hands, you should have done so before the trial.  If you kill Scott, you’re no better than he is.”