“Ma'am?” said William, blankly, and the eyes he turned upon here were glassy with anxiety. He was still determined to dance on and on and on with Miss Pratt, but he realized that there were great obstacles to be overcome before he could begin the process. He was feverishly awaiting the next interregnum between dances--then he would show Joe Bullitt and Johnnie Watson and Wallace Banks, and some others who had set themselves in his way, that he was “abs'lutely not goin' to stand it!” He couldn't stand it, he told himself, even if he wanted to--not to-night! He had “been through enough” in order to get to the party, he thought, thus defining sufferings connected with his costume, and now that he was here he WOULD dance and dance, on and on, with Miss Pratt. Anything else was unthinkable. He HAD to! “Don't you want to dance?” Mrs. Parcher repeated. “Have you looked around for a girl without a partner?” He continued to stare at her, plainly having no comprehension of her meaning. “Girl?” he echoed, in a tone of feeble inquiry. She smiled and nodded, taking his arm. “You come with me,” she said. “I'LL fix you up!” William suffered her to conduct him across the yard. Intensely preoccupied with what he meant to do as soon as the music paused, he was somewhat hazy, but when he perceived that he was being led in the direction of a girl, sitting solitary under one of the maple-trees, the sudden shock of fear aroused his faculties. “What--where--” he stammered, halting and seeking to detach himself from his hostess. “What is it?” she asked. “I got--I got to--” William began, uneasily. “I got to--” His purpose was to excuse himself on the ground that he had to find a man and tell him something important before the next dance, for in the confusion of the moment his powers refused him greater originality. But the vital part of his intended excuse remained unspoken, being disregarded and cut short, as millions of other masculine diplomacies have been, throughout the centuries, by the decisive action of ladies. Miss Boke had been sitting under the mapletree for a long time--so long, indeed, that she was acquiring a profound distaste for forestry and even for maple syrup. In fact, her state of mind was as desperate, in its way, as William's; and when a hostess leads a youth (in almost perfectly fitting conventional black) toward a girl who has been sitting alone through dance after dance, that girl knows what that youth is going to have to do. It must be confessed for Miss Boke that her eyes had been upon William from the moment Mrs. Parcher addressed him. Nevertheless, as the pair came toward her she looked casually away in an indifferent manner. And yet this may have been but a seeming unconsciousness, for upon the very instant of William's halting, and before he had managed to stammer “I got to--” for the fourth time, Miss Boke sprang to her feet and met Mrs. Parcher more than halfway. “Oh, Mrs. Parcher!” she called, coming forward.