Western country. Avoid her! Pass not by her! She stalketh by night.
She'll get you sure, my son. She has a string of hearts at her will as
long as from here to the red barn."

"I shall dance to-night," I said. "If you please, I will dance with her,
the first waltz."

"Yes?" She raised her eyebrows. "You've a nice conceit, at least. But,
then, I don't like modest men."

"Listen to that," chuckled Stevenson, "and yet she married me! But what
she says is true, Cowles. It will be worse than Chapultepec in the crowd
anywhere around Ellen to-night. You might lose a leg or an arm in the
crush, and if you got through, you'd only lose your heart. Better leave
her alone."

"Lord, what a night it'll be for the ball," said Kitty, sweeping an idle
arm toward Parade, which was now filling up with strings of carriages
from the city. We could see men now putting down the dancing floor. The
sun was sinking. From somewhere came the faint sound of band music,
muffled behind the buildings.

"Evening gun!" said Stevenson presently, and we arose and saluted as the
jet of smoke burst from a field piece and the roar of the report brought
the flag fluttering down. Then came strains of a regimental band,
breaking out into the national air; after which the music slid into a
hurrying medley, and presently closed in the sweet refrain of "Robin
Adair," crooning in brass and reeds as though miles away. Twilight began
to fall, and the lamps winked out here and there. The sound of wheels
and hoofs upon the gravel came more often. Here and there a bird