were entranced with delight. Even those who had been somewhat impatient
for the renewal of the dance joined in calls for another song. She
turned to Dick, who had resumed his place beside her. "Who is the man
you wanted so badly to kiss?" she asked quietly.

"Who?" he cried, so that everyone heard. "What! don't you know? That's
Barney, the one and only Barney, my brother. Here, Barney, drop your
fiddle and be introduced to Miss Iola Lane, late from Virginia, or is it
Maryland? Some of those heathen places beyond the Dixie line."

Barney dropped the violin from his chin, came over the floor, and
awkwardly offered his hand. With easy, lazy grace she rose from the
block where she had been sitting.

"You accompany beautifully," she said in her soft Southern drawl; "it's
in you, I can see. No one can ever be taught to accompany like that."

"Oh, pshaw! That's nothing," said Barney, eager to get back again to
his shadow, "but if you don't mind I'll try to follow you if you sing
again."

"Certainly," cried Dick, "she'll sing again. What will you give us now,
white or black?"

"Plantation, of course," said Barney brusquely.

"All right. 'Kentucky home,' eh?" cried Dick.

The girl looked up at him with a saucy, defiant look. "Do they all obey
you here?"