"Oh, I do not mind the dust, and the dancing rests me."

But he did not move.

"I feel tired; I do not think I shall dance again," he said.

Em withdrew her hand, and a young farmer came to the door and bore her off.

"I have often imagined," remarked Gregory--but Lyndall had risen.

"I am tired," she said. "I wonder where Waldo is; he must take me home.
These people will not leave off till morning, I suppose; it is three
already."

She made her way past the fiddlers, and a bench full of tired dancers, and
passed out at the front door. On the stoep a group of men and boys were
smoking, peeping in at the windows, and cracking coarse jokes. Waldo was
certainly not among them, and she made her way to the carts and wagons
drawn up at some distance from the homestead.

"Waldo," she said, peering into a large cart, "is that you? I am so dazed
with the tallow candles, I see nothing."

He had made himself a place between the two seats. She climbed up and sat
on the sloping floor in front.

"I thought I should find you here," she said, drawing her skirt up about
her shoulders. "You must take me home presently, but not now."

She leaned her head on the seat near to his, and they listened in silence