In the dancing-room, the chauffeur had a nod for everybody and from everybody. The girls, especially, tilted heads on one side, or glanced up at him through the coquettish corner of the eye, or jumped up out of seats and buttonholed him and danced up and down in front of him--just according as they were sly, or coquettish, or impulsive. Some glanced in an armed way at Daisy, who seemed to be drawing a good deal of attention from the "boys" as she entered. Miss Nixon and her escort had arrived at a moment when the musicians were taking an intermission; and, as the benches along the side of the dancing-hall were filled, there was ample opportunity for a few introductions. "This," said the chauffeur, stopping and putting his arm around the waist of a mighty man with sandy hair and a neck so red--naturally red--that it was almost scarlet, "is Baby Jock. Jock, this is a friend of mine from out among the homesteads. She is pretty near dead with staying at home nights, and I want you to show her a good time. I got to go back to my run.... Be back at closin'-time, kid, to see if you've changed your mind about lettin' me take you home." With this, and a careless parting salute, the taxi-driver slipped out, leaving Daisy with her new friend, the red-necked Colossus. "Well," said Baby Jock, curving his hand around his chin and looking largely down at her, "the Scots aye drifts thegither, heh?... Don't tell me ye're no Scot, now, after that, lassie." Daisy gave her mouth a little twist in lieu of answering, being absorbed in the scene before her. "Yon Jamie," said her companion--nudging her lightly this time, to attract her attention, "forgot to leave me the name, when he left the lass." "Eh?" said Daisy, a little distantly. "The name, ye ken?" repeated Jock, "juist give me the nickname, if the name itself's too long." He continued to look at her in an amused way, waiting patiently. Presently Daisy turned, lifted her dancing eyes, and beamed on the big Scot. "Ay," said Baby Jock, drily, replying to the glance, "ye're ready to talk at last, heh? 'Miss McKechnie', ye said the name was, didn't ye?" "My name?" Daisy dimpled; "oh, my name's Daisy Nixon. Say what's the name of that boy who brought me here?" Baby Jock stared, open-mouthed. Then he doubled up and slapped his knee. "Heh, but ye're an odd buddy," he said; "but ye're canny, no to give ha'pence for the name if the mon himself's a'richt. Yon lad's name's Jamie Knight. Here's thae fiddles skirlin' again. Come on and have a dance, lassie." As Daisy and her partner circled around the room for the second time, she heard a girl with a humorous nasal voice, one of a couple just behind, remark: "Say, that's like Jim Knight, ain't it. Brings a strange girl in here, and ties up the second best dancer in the hall. Look at the face on Leeby Cameron. Bet a quarter she has a word or two to say to her Jock, on the way home to-night!"