meaning so much more to three of us than to Brandon. Jane and I joined
in the laugh, and when Mary clapped her hands that set Brandon off,
too, for he thought it the quaintest, prettiest little gesture in the
world, and was all unconscious that our laugh was at his expense.

Brandon did not answer Mary's invitation--the fit of laughter had
probably put it out of his mind--so she, evidently anxious to win or
lose her wager at once, again asked him if he danced.

"Oh, pardon me. Of course. Thank you." And he was on his feet beside
her chair in an instant ready for the dance. This time the girl's
laugh, though equally merry, had another tone, for she knew she had
lost.

Out they stepped upon the polished floor, he holding her hand in his,
awaiting the pause in the music to take the step. I shall never forget
the sight of those two standing there together--Mary, dark-eyed and
glowing; Brandon, almost rosy, with eyes that held the color of a deep
spring sky, and a wealth of flowing curls crowning his six feet of
perfect manhood, strong and vigorous as a young lion. Mary, full of
beauty-curves and graces, a veritable Venus in her teens, and Brandon,
an Apollo, with a touch of Hercules, were a complement each to the
other that would surely make a perfect one.

When the music started, off they went, heel and toe, bow and courtesy,
a step forward and a step back, in perfect time and rhythm--a poem of
human motion. Could Brandon dance? The princess had her answer in the
first ten steps. Nothing could be more graceful than Brandon's
dancing, unless it were Mary's. Her slightest movement was grace
itself. When she would throw herself backward in thrusting out her