The young people, too, were feeling the effect of last night's dissipation. The ball was not over at twelve o'clock, as the invitations had intimated it would be, but had gone on into the wee small hours of morning. It was not often that Ryeville had the chance to trip the light fantastic toe to the music of a Louisville band and the eager dancers had begged for more and more. The old people had dropped out, one by one, but the youngsters danced on and on. Then it was that Judith had come into her own as it were, and all of the young men who had been denied before supper seemed determined to make up for lost time. The most persistent of the clamoring swains were Jeff Bucknor and Tom Harbison. This popularity of a person who had always rubbed her the wrong way was wormwood to Mildred Bucknor, and for her brother and Tom Harbison to be rivals for Judith's favor added gall to the wormwood. Not that Mildred was not having a very good time herself. Indeed, she was always something of a belle and never lacked for partners, but she had other plans for her brother on the one hand and on the other Tom Harbison had paid her enough attention for her to consider him in a measure her property. She had even announced to several of her friends, in the strictest confidence, that she was engaged to him--or "as good as engaged." The ball of the night before was under discussion at the breakfast table. It was pronounced, on the whole, to have been a very good ball and a fitting climax to the house party. "Of course it is perfectly absurd for the old men to think they can put that Buck girl into society by merely giving her a debut party," said Mildred. "It takes something besides good clothes and an introduction to place people." "How about beauty and intelligence and character?" asked Jeff. "Well, tastes differ as to beauty, and if she had any sense she would know enough not to try to push herself where she isn't wanted. I don't think it is indicative of a very good character to accept clothes from a man. I heard, on very good authority, that a man gave her her dress. He paid a pretty penny for it, too, I am sure. Nan and I looked at some gowns like hers when we were in Louisville and they were too steep for us, I can tell you." "I know about the dress. She told me," said Jeff. "Ah, things have progressed pretty far with you," sneered his sister. "Perhaps she was letting you know she was by way of receiving gifts of such a character from her admirers."