As though her words had been some sort of evil incantation, the pretty group dissolved instantly. The girls fled giggling and exclaiming; the boys shouldered sheepishly away; only the Widow Griever remained to confront the spoil-sport with acid visage and swift reproof. Roxy wound up the hostilities that ensued by declaring, "You can dance, and Brother Lance kin, ef them's yo' ruthers; but ye cain't mix me in. That thar was a game I played when I went to the old field hollerin' school. Call hit a reel ef ye want to--oh, call hit a reel--shore! But ye cain't put yo' wickedness on me." "Yes," returned Ola hardily, "I played it at school, too. But it's the Virginia Reel, and Lance said he was goin' to have dancin' here to-night. Ain't ye. Lance? I brung my slippers." Roxy Griever turned and flounced out. Lance smiled indulgently at Ola. His sister's warlike demonstrations amused him mightily and put him in a good humor. "Sure," he agreed largely. "You and me will have 'em all dancin' before we're done. I [139] wish't we had Preacher Drumright here to pat for us." The sedate guests, though they laughed a little, fell away from these two, leaving them standing alone in the centre of the floor, while some of the boys and girls lingered, staring and giggling, wondering what they would do or say next. "'Pears like they ain't nobody but you and me to do the dancin'," Ola began doubtfully, "an' if you have to play--" She broke off. In the doorway that led to the little back room appeared the solemn countenance of the Widow Griever. This worthy woman fixed a cold eye upon her brother and beckoned him silently with ghostly finger. "I'll be back in a minute, Ola," he told his unwelcome addition to the company, the wedge he had driven into their ranks, and which seemed about to split them asunder. [140] CHAPTER IX. THE INTERLOPER. LANCE found his father and Octavia Gentry awaiting him in the lean-to kitchen, Kimbro Cleaverage anxious and deprecating. Old Ajax had dodged the issue, and Sylvane was out in the other room trying to get the boys and girls to playing again. But Callista was there--not beside her mother--she stood near the door, a little pale and looking anywhere but at her bridegroom. Lance Cleaverage's eye, half scornful, swept the scattered group and read their attitude aright. "Anything the matter with you-all?" he inquired suavely. "Yes, they's a-plenty the matter with us, and with all decent and respectable persons here in this house gathered this night," the Widow Griever began in a high, shaking, unnatural voice. "I reckon all that means Ola Derf, for short," cut in Lance, not choosing to be bored with a lengthy harangue.