"Oh, go to Tinkham!" said Will, alluding disrespectfully to the next township; and he led off his trembling Nan in triumph. "All around the cobbler's shop The monkey chased the weasel; That's the way the money goes,-- _Pop!_ goes the weasel!" The fiddle says "Pop!" as plainly as the ridiculous doggerel; and at the word, two of the three who have been swinging round together lift their arms, and the third goes "_pop!_" under and rises to confront the next couple: more tiptoe swaying, balancing to this one, chassez-ing to that one; then three hands round, and "_pop!_" goes the weasel again; and so on down the whole room, in the prettiest, merriest, most enchanting dance of them all. But this is engrossing, I would have you know. When one is popping every third minute, and balancing and swinging during the other two, it is difficult, it is impossible, to keep a sharp lookout on two persons who are popping at the other end of the dance. Half of Buckstone Bradford, the worst half, was having a sad time of it, trying to see over his shoulder and behind his back; but the other half, the one that had asked Miss Bethesda to dance, ah! that half was enjoying itself as it had not done for years. How she danced! as pat to the music as fiddle to bow! How small her hand looked, just as it used to look, lying in his big brown palm! How--now, where in time were those pesky young ones? For lo! a thing had happened. At the last triumphant "_pop!_" of the weasel, there had been another pop through the little door at the farther end of the hall; and by this time, Miss Bethesda calculated, Will and Nan must have reached the foot of the back stairs, and be flying across the kitchen on their way to the outer door and safety. She drew a long breath, and turned to her companion, trying to keep the light of triumph out of her eyes. Bradford had stopped short, setting the dancers all astray; he looked around the room, seeking the delinquents; his heavy brows met, his face grew scarlet. Yes, Miss Bethesda knew he would be proper mad! But now he turned, and fixed his eyes on her with relentless scrutiny; another moment, and with a roar like a wild animal, he darted in pursuit. The fiddler, who had learned more things than fiddling from old De Arthenay, put out his foot, hoping to trip up the angry man; but, heavy as he was, Bradford leaped aside like a deer, and the next instant he was in the outer hall, and Bethesda Pool after him. "Buckstone," she cried, "wait just a minute, and I'll tell you!" But he turned on her savagely. "I'll see to you afterwards, Bethesda Pool!" he cried, furiously. "You won't make me lose time, I can tell you! Think I don't remember the old short cut? Stand out of the way, or I shall do ye a hurt, and I don't want to do that!" "Buckstone!" cried Miss Bethesda again; but this time the big man, without another word, lifted her away from the doorway in which she had placed herself, and rushed on.