"He dances a little languidly, I think." "He feels a little out of place in this mixed company, I presume. His notions are high Boston." "How does that suit Julia?" "It amuses her. He was telling her how this and that is done in Boston, and she in return told him how we do not do the same things here, and claimed that our way is the best." "Here comes Major Ridgeley. He seems much at home in a ball-room." "Yes, he is one of those ready men, who always appear best in a crowd." He saw and made his way to them; inquired about the General, spoke of his reply to Byington, complimented the dancing of Julia, inquired about her partner, and rattled on about several things. "Will your brother Barton be here this evening?" asked Mrs. Ford. "I don't know; he thought he would not," was the reply. "He don't go out at all, lately." "What an awful time he had with that Bingham!" said Mrs. Ford. "They say he has broken up two or three schools, and was a powerful and dangerous man, twenty-five or six years old. I would really like to see Barton. He is quite a lion." "Bart is sensitive about it," answered the Major, "and don't speak of it. Why, I was on my way up from Ravenna, the next day after it happened, and called at his school-house for half an hour; the desk had not been put up then, and I asked him what had happened to it, and he said the boys had torn it down in a scuffle. He never said a word of the fracas to me, and I only heard of it when I got up to Parker's. There I found young Johnson, who had just come from there." "Why, how you talk! What is the reason for that, do you suppose?" "I don't know. He was at home a few days after, and seemed hurt and sad over it; and when I asked him how many innocents he had slaughtered since, he said one in two days, and at that rate they would just last him through." "It is funny," said Mrs. Ford. "As I have observed, Barton is not much inclined to talk about what he does," said Mrs. Markham; "and, do you know, Major, he has not given me a chance to speak to him since his return." "He thinks, possibly, that he is under a cloud," answered the Major. "He chooses to think so, then," said Mrs. Markham; and the music closed, and the dancers looked for seats, and the Major went away to meet an engagement for the next dance. CHAPTER XVI. WALTZ. A little commotion about the door--a little mob of young men and boys--and a little spreading buzz and whisper--some hand-shakings--two or three introductions--then another buzz--and Bart made his way forward, with an air of being annoyed and bored and pushed forward as if to escape. He was under the inspiration of one of those sudden impulses upon which he acted, so sudden, often, as to seem not the result of mental process.