"Pop goes the Weasel!" It was an old dance, and had not been seen in the village for years. Indeed, many of the lads and lasses had never seen it, and looked about them at a loss, as the lively strains struck up, notes whose shrill gayety made even the "Tempest" seem quiet by comparison. But the older men and women cast glances at each other, half-shy, half-pleased. This was renewing old times with a vengeance! Many a husband followed the example of Israel Bumpus, and led out the choice of his youth, flattering himself that she "stood it as well as any of 'em," while mature spinsters settled themselves elaborately in their seats, with an air of never having heard of the old-fashioned dance,--unless some one came to ask them for it, in which case memory became suddenly refreshed, and they stood up with right good-will. Now it happened that in happier days this had been the favourite dance of Miss Bethesda Pool, and that her favourite partner in it had been Buckstone Bradford. She could not keep back a start when the well-known air was played with all its old fire; and for the life of her, it seemed, she could not help looking across the hall at Buckstone, where he stood, leaning stiffly against the wall. He was looking at her, of course: somehow, she knew he would be. Their eyes met; and perhaps neither of them knew exactly what happened next. Before Mr. Bradford had time to collect his thoughts, he found himself bowing his stiff back before Bethesda Pool. "My dance, I believe!" he said, shortly; and though Miss Bethesda knew it was nothing of the kind, she could not find breath to say so. She looked up, she looked down; and the next moment, to the amazement of everybody, the two old sweethearts took their places at the head of the line. Now Will Newell had been growing uneasy during the last half-hour. He had hardly had a chance to speak to Nan, yet had managed to make her understand that all was ready, and that when he gave the word she was to take her life in her hand and fly with him. But when could he give the word? Bradford's eyes had hardly left his daughter's figure all the evening; he followed her up and down the lines of dancers, frowning heavily if Will happened to be near her in the dance, stolidly content if her neighbour were young Jacob Flynt. What was Will to do? The horse would be getting uneasy, and the moon would be setting before long. He must get rid of old Bradford, somehow! Suddenly, hardly able to believe his eyes, he saw his tormentor fairly turn his back on Nan: saw him cross the room, saw him bend before Miss Bethesda, saw him standing up to dance. Now! now was the chance! In an instant Will had forced his way before Jacob Flynt, who was just about to lead Nan out for the dance. "You're engaged to me for this, you know, Nan," said this unblushing young fellow; and he drew her arm under his with a quick, masterful gesture. "But--but--but she promised me!" cried poor Jacob, who stammered a little.