"There's going to be trouble here, sure's you're knee-high to a duck. Dad won't let our bunch light into 'em, but they'll be fighting amongst themselves inside an hour. You better slip it to the women that the dance breaks up early. Give 'em a few more waltzes and two-steps, Lance, and then make it Home-Sweet-Home, if you don't want to muss up your nice city clothes," he added, with a laugh that was not altogether friendly. "Mussing up nice city clothes is my favorite pastime," Lance retorted, and went inside again to see who was doing all the whooping. The chief whooper, he discovered, was Bill Kennedy, the man whom he had very nearly thrashed. Mary Hope was looking her Scotch primmest. Lance measured the primness, saw that there was a vacant space beside her, and made his precarious way toward it, circling the dancers who swung close to the benches and trod upon the toes of the wall flowers in their enthusiasm. He reached the vacant space and sat down just in time to receive Bill Kennedy in his lap. But Bill was too happy just then to observe whose lap he landed in, and bounced up with a bellowing laugh to resume his gyrations. "Don't dance any more, girl," Lance said, leaning so that he could make himself heard without shouting in the uproar. "It's getting pretty wild--and it will be wilder. They must have hauled it out in barrels!" Mary Hope looked at him, but she did not smile, did not answer. "I'm sorry the secret is no nicer," Lance went on. "Now the floor will have to be scrubbed before a lady girl can come out and teach school here. I thought it would be great to have a house-warming dance,--but they're making it too blamed warm!" Some one slipped and fell, and immediately there was a struggling heap where others had fallen over the first. There were shrieks of laughter and an oath or two, an epithet and then a loud-flung threat. Lance started up, saw that Tom and Al were heading that way, and took Mary Hope by the arm. "It's time little girls like you went home," he said smiling, and somehow got her to the door without having her trampled upon. "Where are your wraps?" "There," said Mary Hope dazedly, and pointed to the corner behind them, where cloaks, hoods, hats and two sleeping children were piled indiscriminately. Through the doorway men were crowding, two or three being pushed out only to be pushed in again by others eager to join the melee. In the rear of the room, near the musicians, two men were fighting. Lance, giving one glance to the fight and another to the struggling mass in the doorway, pushed up the window nearest them, lifted Mary Hope and put her out on the side hill. He felt of a coat or two, chose the heaviest, found something soft and furry like a cap, and followed her. Behind the door no one seemed to look. A solid mass of backs was turned toward him when he wriggled through on his stomach. "Where's your horse?" he asked Mary Hope, while he slipped the coat on her and buttoned it.