“No, you’re the naughty one,” said the girl. “You’ve put me in a disagreeable position.” “I don’t believe it, Hebe. I know you are enjoying this.” She sighed. “You do dance like a—a ribbon,” she admitted. Robert laughed. “And what has Helen to complain of?” he asked. “Hasn’t she the great and only Brute? I’m making the most of your approval of my dancing before you try it with him. He is one of these haughty heroes, who h-excel in everything, you know.” “Including flirting, I suppose,” said Rosalie. “Couldn’t say. He’s never flirted with me. Humble observation, however, would deduce that all he ever does is to allow himself to be made love to.” Rosalie swallowed, and essayed a laugh. “Companionship with Brute has made me a socialist, socially, Hebe. Here I am, cheerful, willing to please—average good-looking. Yes, I maintain it. Now, Hebe, am I not average good-looking? Don’t speak too quickly. Remember, Chinese, African, American-Indian—” “Oh, Mr. Nixon,”—Rosalie did laugh now,—“how can you talk so constantly, and dance too?” They were passing Mrs. Nixon, and that lady heard the girlish laugh. She sighed. “She certainly dances well. Helen said she was noted for it at school. I suppose she is a really artistic creature; but Robert should have been here in time to ask Helen. College has absolutely ruined his manners.” Mrs. Nixon leaned toward her brother, who was watching his _protégée_, pleased in her pleasure. “Where can Mrs. Bruce be?” she asked. “I don’t know,” was the reply. “I suppose she has many friends here.” But Mrs. Nixon doubted if sociability were keeping her friend away. “I’m afraid she’s pouting somewhere,” she reflected. “I don’t see how I could have done any differently. It wasn’t _my_ fault that she refused to go with Irving. It is annoying to have this incident occur right at the outset of our stay. It would be stupid of her to be offended. Really that Vincent girl from first to last has given us a great deal of annoyance!” CHAPTER XXIV THE CLASH WHEN Robert returned Rosalie to her place near Mrs. Nixon, a number of men who had experienced a clinching of their admiration by the view of her dancing, hastened to approach. Many of the same people came to the inn, season after season, and Irving knew most of them. Some were Harvard men known to Robert as well, and he at last being alive to Helen’s situation, the group around the two girls soon became extremely animated. Amidst the strife of tongues Irving made his way to Rosalie. “This is ours?” he said. As they moved away, she spoke: “I hope I sha’n’t offend any one. I haven’t the least idea what I’ve promised to do.” In a sort of dream she started in the dance. This was Fairport. In fifteen minutes she could be standing in Mrs. Pogram’s kitchen, where the clock ticked loud above the oilcloth shelf, and Loomis Brown counted the silver she had washed.