“My, your hands are cold,” she said. He took hold of her hand and replied, “Mine ain't so cold as yours.” “Yes, it is.” She drew hers away slowly, and opened the door. They both laughed. Jess leaned back against the door. “Say,” she said, “when are you coming around again?” “I dunno. When do you think?” “Marne asked me if you were coming there to-morrow night.” “What'd you tell her?” “Do you want to?” “Yes, if you do.” “All right, I'll be ready.” In a week it was generally known that Hunch Badeau was “going with Jess Bartlett.” Bruce and Mamie poked fun at them, and looked mischievous whenever they were mentioned. Mamie used to enjoy having them at the house, and would sit at one side and laugh quietly all the evening at Hunch's awkward ways and Jess's blushes and shy glances. Sometimes, if they were left together in the living room, Bruce would make a great noise outside the door before he came in, and would pretend not to see their conscious glances, talking loudly all the while as if to cover their embarrassment. And as Jess really liked Hunch and Hunch was drifting blindly with the current, all these doings magnified their common interest, and gradually made it easier for them to be alone together, and to talk about themselves and their likings and hopes. Hunch grew more careful about his appearance, and spent less time than formerly with the wharf men and the elevator gang. One evening, about the middle of November, Hunch went around to the Bartlett's as usual. Jess was a little embarrassed about something. When Hunch said, “Shall we go down to Bruce's?” she hesitated. “Guess we hadn't better,” she said. “Marne isn't very well.” “All right. What'll we do?” “I don't care. Do you want to stay here? There's nobody home to-night. I'll tell you, you can have a dancing lesson.” “Guess I won't be much good at it. I don't believe I can learn.” “Oh, yes, you can. You'll do beautifully. Now stand up.” “Hunch felt awkward as she showed him the steps, and then tried to guide him about the room. “I'm an awful fool,” he said. “You ain't either. Here, you guide me.” Hunch hesitated and looked at her. “Take hold of my hand. Put your arm around--oh, pshaw! it's just dancing; don't be so stupid. Not way off there. Hold me closer or we can't dance at all. Oh, you don't understand.” Hunch gripped her doggedly. She was leaning a little, trying to watch his feet, and as they stood there, her hair brushing against her shoulder and a slight blush on her forehead, he felt that he was losing his self-control. Then he found that he did not care, and he made no effort to hold himself in check. “Now, one, two, three--one, two, three. Not that way. Try it again. One, two, three--you don't get it, somehow.”