Dunstan looked at her, his eyes quick with passionate fire. "So you've heard," he said wonderingly. "Well, that chap is about the lowest skunk; they don't have hells for that kind," said the boy bitterly, "they just let them stew in their own juice." But his sister would not listen; she was thinking quickly. "Go get them, dear; tell them to come out here and then order some ice-cream and we'll make a little party of our own." Hastily Sard devised a way to shield Minga; instinctively she thought of Shipman. "Get Watts, too," she urged. Dunstan saw how dark her eyes were and wondered. He half smiled. "Old Doomsday book and Sard," he half chuckled under his perturbation. "What a couple of old nuts, yet not so bad, either." Then he thought of Colter and bit his lips. But Dunstan, hurrying for the door and seizing Minga where she stood proud, bewildered, and alone, grabbed her in true "cutting-in" fashion. "Gee, I've been waiting for this chance," he breathed. "I say, Minga, don't you dance with your host even once in the evening?" She shot a swift look at him. "Dunce," in a low voice, "the Bunch think I'm--not--nice--they've been saying things; it was Gertrude, I think," Minga mocked with her little face. Her red lips quivered, and Dunstan, with a curious look of man determination, steered her into an increasing velocity and brilliancy of step. "Bing! this is good music," breathed the boy. "All right, Minga, old sport, eyes right, head up, what? The rest of them are caterpillars and worms, what? And Tawny Troop is--is--is a butterlion--not even a chocolate pussy in a Christmas stocking!" The gay rallying brought the bright blood to the vivid little face. Minga threw back her head and her gay laugh pealed out, which was what Dunce wanted. "Where's Shipman?" he asked, lips close to the fluttering little head. Again the face clouded and poor Dunstan, his resources at an end, gave her Sard's message. "Say!" he tried to challenge the girl, tried to help her keep the sweet gay insouciance, the so-called "pep" that was Minga's greatest asset.... "Once more around the room," said Dunce, "once more past Gertrude, the great Human Vampire-steady--once more past the gang of glarers," meaning the chaperons, "steady; and then out that little door to the right. See? and then find old Sard, see? and then a nice long spin out in the moonlight. Who wants to dance this sizzling night?" "All--right," breathed Minga, "all right. Say, Dunce," but while she smiled and shook her head at him for the benefit of the observing Bunch, Minga's voice was trembling, "say, Dunce, you aren't a good--good sort--or anything like that, are you?" The boyish arm tightened. "I'm any old thing you want," he said gruffly. "I'm any old thing you need, Minga." Meanwhile Sard sat waiting for them, the soft summer night cooling the cheeks Tawny had made feverish.