his little world—­a fling that was foolish, but harmful, chiefly in that it took his time and his mind and his energy from his work.  He not only neglected his studies, but he fell in with the wild young bucks of the town, learned to play cards, took more wine than was good for him sometimes, was on the verge of several duels, and night after night raced home in his buggy against the coming dawn.  Though Miss Lucy looked worried, the indulgent old Major made no protest.  Indeed he was rather pleased.  Chad was sowing his wild oats—­it was in the blood, and the mood would pass.  It did pass, naturally enough, on the very day that the breach between him and Margaret was partly healed; and the heart of Caleb Hazel, whom Chad, for months, had not dared to face, was made glad when the boy came back to him remorseful and repentant—­the old Chad once more.

They were late in getting to the dance.  Every window in the old Hunt home was brilliant with light.  Chinese lanterns swung in the big yard.  The scent of early spring flowers smote the fresh night air.  Music and the murmur of nimble feet and happy laughter swept out the wide-open doors past which white figures flitted swiftly.  Scarcely anybody knew Chad in his regimentals, and the Major, with the delight of a boy, led him around, gravely presenting him as General Buford here and there.  Indeed, the lad made a noble figure with his superb height and bearing, and he wore sword and spurs as though born to them.  Margaret was dancing with Richard Hunt when she saw his eyes searching for her through the room, and she gave him a radiant smile that almost stunned him.  She had been haughty and distant when he went to her to plead forgiveness:  she had been too hard. and Margaret, too, was repentant.

“Why, who’s that?” asked Richard Hunt.  “Oh, yes,” he added, getting his answer from Margaret’s face.  “Bless me, but he’s fine—­the very spirit of ’76.  I must have him in the Rifles.”

“Will you make him a lieutenant?” asked Margaret.

“Why, yes, I will,” said Mr. Hunt, decisively.  “I’ll resign myself in his favor, if it pleases you.”

“Oh, no, no—­no one could fill your place.”

“Well, he can, I fear—­and here he comes to do it.  I’ll have to retreat some time, and I suppose I’d as well begin now.”  And the gallant gentleman bowed to Chad.

“Will you pardon me, Miss Margaret?  My mother is calling me.”

“You must have keen ears,” said Margaret; “your mother is upstairs.”

“Yes; but she wants me.  Everybody wants me, but—­” he bowed again with an imperturbable smile and went his way.

Margaret looked demurely into Chad’s eager eyes.

“And how is the spirit of ’76?”

“The spirit of ’76 is unchanged.”

“Oh, yes, he is; I scarcely knew him.”

“But he’s unchanged; he never will change.”

Margaret dropped her eyes and Chad looked around.

“I wish we could get out of here.”