The crowd, as we have said, came surging back. The best of the fun was yet to come. Mell roused herself and looked about her. Here were other girls with sweet faces, and many of them, as she was aware, possessed of those heavier charms of worldly substance which oftentimes outweigh the sweetest of faces. None of them must lure him from her. He should stick to her, now, come what would. The careless beauty, the ingenuous and undesigning woman, is immediately transformed into a greedy monopolist, a wily fox, a cunning serpent, a contriving, intriguing, manoeuvring strategist, bent upon mischief, who will play a deep game and stoop to the tricks of the trade, and shift, and dodge, and shuffle, and aim to bring down, by fair means or foul, the noble quarry. Eye, lip, tongue, mind, heart, soul, the graces of youth, the allurements of beauty, the treasures of a cultivated mind, and all those sweet mysteries of sense which float in the atmosphere between a young man and the maiden of his fancy, were put in motion to bear upon Rube's case. He did not move; no wonder; gorged on sweets, Rube had neither power nor inclination to be gone. After a little, a group of young men stationed themselves at a given point, not far from where this couple sat. They had been into an adjacent farm-house and changed their clothes, and now appeared in knee pants, red stockings, and white jackets, a striking and interesting accessory to an already animated and glowing landscape. In this group of picturesque figures Jerome was conspicuous. Jerome looked well in anything, and generally well to everybody. Not so, to-day. To one pair of eyes, not distant, he now loomed up blacker in broad daylight than the blackest Mephistopheles in a howling Walpurgis night. He saw Rube beside her, and she noted his start of surprise. "Have a care!" cogitated Mell. "There may be surprises in store for you--greater than this and not so easily brooked." She turned her back upon him and gave her whole attention again to Rube. The first duty of a woman is to respect herself, the second duty of a woman is to enforce the respect of others. Some of these days Jerome Devonhough would be only too glad if she would deign to permit him to speak to her. "Aren't you going to take part?" she asked her companion. "No; I'm not in trim, and it's no use trying to beat Devonhough." "_You_ could beat him," said she. She spoke with confidence and seductively. "You are awfully complimentary, I declare! Do you wish me to run, Melville?" "I do. Yes, Rube, I wish it particularly. Why should this stranger carry off the palm over our own boys?" "For the best of reasons. He deserves to carry it off. Devonhough can out-run, out-leap, out-ride, out-do anything in the county." "Except _you_," again insinuated Mell. "Say! what makes you believe so strong in me?" "Nothing makes me, but--I cannot help it!"