The music had ceased again and once more the walls were lined with heated dancers, breathing hard and fanning themselves.  Suddenly John Allandale saw a face he was looking for.  Murmuring an excuse to Mrs. Abbot, he strode across the room, just as his niece, leaning upon the arm of the Hon. Bunning-Ford, approached where he had been standing.

Mrs. Abbot glanced admiringly up into Jacky’s face.

“A successful evening, Joaquina?” she interrogated kindly.

“Lovely, Aunt Margaret, thanks.”  She always called the doctor’s wife “Aunt.”

Mrs. Abbot nodded.

“I believe you have danced every dance.  You must be tired, child.  Come and sit down.”

Jacky was intensely fond of this old lady and looked upon her almost as a mother.  Her affection was reciprocated.  The girl seated herself and “Lord” Bill stood over her, fan in hand.

“Say, auntie,” exclaimed Jacky, “I’ve made up my mind to dance every dance on the program.  And I guess I sha’n’t Waste time on feeding.”

The girl’s beautiful face was aglow with excitement.  Mrs. Abbot’s face indicated horrified amazement.

“My dear child, don’t—­don’t talk like that.  It is really dreadful.”

“Lord” Bill smiled.

“I’m so sorry, auntie, I forgot,” the girl replied, with an irresistible smile.  “I never can get away from the prairie.  Do you know, this evening old Lablache made me mad, and my hand went round to my hip to get a grip on my six-shooter, and I was quite disappointed to feel nothing but smooth silk to my touch.  I’m not fit for town life, I guess.  I’m a prairie girl; you can bet your life on it, and nothing will civilize me.  Billy, do stop wagging that fan.”

“Lord” Bill smiled a slow, twinkling smile and desisted.  He was a tall, slight man, with a faint stoop at the shoulders.  He looked worthy of his title.

“It is no use trying to treat Jacky to a becoming appreciation of social requirements,” he said, addressing himself with a sort of weary deliberation to Mrs. Abbot.  “I suggested an ice just now.  She said she got plenty on the ranch at this time of year,” and he shrugged his shoulders and laughed pleasantly.

“Well, of course.  What does one want ices for?” asked the girl, disdainfully.  “I came here to dance.  But, auntie, dear, where has uncle gone?  He dashed off as if he were afraid of us when we came up.”

“I think he has set his mind on a game of poker, dear, and—­”

“And that means he has gone in search of that detestable man, Lablache,” Jacky put in sharply.

Her beautiful face flushed with anger as she spoke.  But withal there was a look of anxiety in her eyes.

“If he must play cards I wish he would play with some one else,” she pursued.

“Lord” Bill glanced round the room.  He saw that Lablache had disappeared.

“Well, you see, Lablache has taken a lot of money out of all of us.  Naturally we wish to get it back,” he said quietly, as if in defense of her uncle’s doings.