smiling. "I remember definitely about a score of those 'only girls you ever loved,' and I think there are a few I've forgotten."
"Oh, come now, I never really loved any one but Dorothy."
"I'm truly sorry, old chap, but it can't be helped now. And I'd feel sorrier still, but that I know you'll find another only girl to love, now that Dorothy is out of the running. And now, Cam, I want you and Gale to draw me up a new will. I'm going to leave a fairish little sum to you, whether you want it or not; and a bunch to Cousin Abby, and a good bit to Driggs and Peters."
"And the housekeeper?"
"Oh, yes, Mrs. Carson. But these legacies are the same as they stand in my present will."
"Oh, cut it, Justin! You're only making this will because you think it devolves on the head of the house of Arnold to do that sort of thing. Don't bother about it for the present. You'll be married in a few weeks, and then Dorothy will be your legal heir, and you can fix up your will and that precious legacy to me afterwards."
"You're a good sort, Campbell. I have got a lot of things to attend to before the wedding, so perhaps it would be as well to leave that matter until afterward. Any way, I suppose I'd better take up the subject with Gale. It might be less embarrassing, as I'm not going to leave him anything. Or, if you prefer, I'll get another lawyer for the purpose."
"Do as you like, old chap; but I say, Just, I wish you'd let me off from being your best man. Truly, I'm hard hit by that little black-eyed witch, and, confound it! a fellow hates to stand tamely by and fairly assist another fellow to marry the girl he cares for!"
"Why, Cam, I didn't know you were so serious as all that. Of course, I'll let you off, if you insist. Chapin could be my best man, I suppose—or Gale—or even Fred Crane. There are plenty of fellows, but I expected to have you."
"Well, I'd rather you'd get some one else, if you will. I say, Justin, do you remember the day we climbed that turret? Shinned up the outside! We were a venturesome pair of kids, weren't we?"
"Yes; I expect there were mighty few places about this old house that we didn't climb up or over or through."
"And you used to boost me up into all sorts of dark holes where you were too big to get in yourself, and I felt honored to be used for such a purpose! We never climbed over the wall, did we?"
"No, we never could manage that. That's a pretty good wall, Cam."
"Yes, as walls go. But I think it's a blot on the landscape. It's of no earthly use; why don't you tear it down?"
"Tear it, down! I'd as soon think of razing the house to the ground! It's a stunning old pile, isn't it?"
The two men stood on a knoll which gave one of the best views of the old mansion. The additions that had been made from time to time were not inharmonious, and though it was a rambling structure it was as a whole pleasing to the eye.
"I shall make quite a lot of changes for Dorothy," Justin said; "I think I'll put up a whole new wing, and let her have a suite of rooms with every possible modern beauty of decoration and appointment."
"Do! You're a lucky dog, Just, to have the privilege of doing things for that girl. Oh, well, it's all in a lifetime!"
The two men walked on in silence for a few minutes, and then as by a common impulse, they turned and went back to the house to join the others. But as everybody was dressing for dinner, the terrace was deserted.
"There's a dance on to-night, old man," said Arnold; "just a small one, but Dorothy wanted some amusement, so I invited a few of the neighbors."
"All right," answered Crosby, and he went on to the smoking-room.
Chapter IV.
With Dancing Steps
Dinner that night was a gay function. A few of the dance guests had been invited to dine and more would come later.
Dorothy appeared in a daring little dancing frock of scarlet chiffon, whose low bodice showed her girlish, dimpled shoulders and rounded, baby-like arms. She was quite in her element, for by virtue of her position she was queen of the occasion, and by virtue of her charms and fascination she was easily belle of the ball.
Leila, in pale green, was beautiful, but her exquisite blonde beauty faded and paled beside Dorothy's sparkling witchery.
Mrs. Duncan, shining in the reflected light of her daughter, was calmly gracious of manner, and in her white silk clouded with black lace looked charmingly attractive.
But far from being outshone by her younger guests, Miss Wadsworth appeared in the full glory of a rose-colored satin, with much point lace and many jewels.
"Don't come near me, child," she cried, as she saw Dorothy's scarlet frills. "Why didn't you let me know you were going to wear red? Never mind; keep the length of the room between us for this evening, and hereafter we'll compare notes before we dress."
Dorothy laughed, and promised to stay away from Miss Wadsworth, and keep near Mrs. Crane, who in pale corn-color harmonized with Dorothy's brilliant garb.
But the red frock was not often seen beside the yellow one, for Dorothy was beset on all sides by would-be partners. Her dances were divided, and the intervals between them were carefully portioned out to eager swains, some of whom met the little witch for the first time that evening.
"Isn't this my dance?" said Arnold, coming up to her as she sat in a window-seat with Emory Gale.
"I hope so," said Gale, "for perhaps you'll be able to keep this young person in order. She's flirting desperately all over the place, and has even tried her beguiling arts on me."
"Nothing of the sort," said Dorothy, pouting. "I shouldn't waste them on you—you're too unappreciative!" Then, turning to Arnold, with an exaggerated gesture of appeal, she said, "Let me fly with you, oh lord of my life! Every one else bores me to extinction, and I live only in hope of being again with you!"
Though these fervid words were uttered in deep, vibrant tones, Dorothy's glances strayed wickedly toward Gale, and the humorous twinkle in her eyes proved that her speech was merely a joke born of her high spirits and love of foolery.
But Arnold grasped her arm and drew her almost roughly out of the dancing-room, through the great hall, and out on a small veranda, where they found themselves alone in the moonlight.
"Dorothy," he exclaimed, in angry accents, "what do you mean by guying me like that? Don't you know I won't stand it?"
"I know you will," cooed Dorothy, as with her little finger-tips she daintily patted his bronzed cheek.
The touch of those soft fingers put an end to scolding, as Dorothy knew it would, but though Justin's arm went round her, and his voice became tender and lover-like, he could not resist a little more plain speaking.
"It's bad enough now, when we're only engaged, but if after we're married you go flirting about with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, there'll be trouble."
"There'll be trouble, any way, after I'm married;"
