courage to appear upon the floor until half the evening was over, and there was a deal of chuckling and nudging when the foreman, his face flaming, pushed into the room. But he could not escape "the boss' niece." Jane Ann deliberately led him into the set of which Tom and Sally Dickson were the nucleus.
"My great aunt!" groaned Ike. "Just as like as not, honey, I'll trample all over you an' mash yo' feet. It's like takin' life in your han's to dance with me."
"Mebbe I better take my feet in my hands, according to your warning, Ike," quoth Jane Ann. "Aw, come on, I reckon I can dodge your feet, big as they are."
Nor did Bashful Ike prove to be so poor a dancer, when he was once on the floor. But he went through the figures of the dance with a face—so Jane Ann said afterward—that flamed like a torchlight procession every time he came opposite to Sally Dickson.
"I see you're here early, Mr. Stedman," said the red-haired schoolmistress, as she was being swung by the giant cow puncher in one of the figures. "Usually you're like Parson Brown's cow's tail—always behind!"
"They drug me in, Sally—they just drug me in," explained the suffering Ike.
"Well, do brace up and look a little less like
