Pearl smiled complaisantly upon him. "The Jota!" she said, and
immediately he joined her, making no bad second. Together they danced
until Seagreave came down from his cabin, and then, flushed and
laughing, she flung herself into a chair and refused to go on, although
he begged her to do so.

"Say, Sadie," breathed Mrs. Thomas, "don't you believe I could learn to
do that?"

"No," returned her friend, looking up from an earnest contemplation of
various hooks, "I don't believe that no woman that's been married and
had children and sorrows and buried a husband and is as heavy as a
hippopotamus, and stumbles and interferes with both feet like Mis'
Evans's old horse, Whitey, can learn something where the trick of it is
keepin' up in the air most of the time."

"You needn't hurt a person's feelings by being so harsh." Mrs. Thomas's
eyes filled with tears. "Oh, jus' take in Mr. Seagreave," she whispered;
"I haven't seen him look at a lady that way yet."

"Cert'ny not at you. He ain't seem' no miner's wives," returned Mrs.
Nitschkan cruelly.

"Father," cried Pearl joyously to Gallito, "I have lost nothing. I am
not even tired, nor stiff. If anything, I am better than ever. Isn't it
so? No," as Seagreave still continued to urge José and her to dance,
"no," she lifted her narrow, glittering eyes to his, all the old
challenge in them again, the pale coffee stains beneath them had
deepened, her cheeks held the flush of a crimson rose, "not until