“You’d forgotten me,” accused Miss Kathleen Pierce, pouting, as he came to greet her.

Hal’s disclaimer had sufficient diplomatic warmth to banish her displeasure.  She introduced to him as Dr. Merritt a striking-looking, gray-haired young man, who had come up at the same time with an anticipatory expression.  This promptly vanished when she said offhandedly to him: 

“You’ve had three dances with me already, Hugh.  I’m going to give this one to Mr. Surtaine if he wants it.”

“Of course I want it,” said Hal.

“Not that you deserve it,” she went on.  “You should have come around earlier.  I’m not in the habit of giving dances this late in the evening.”

“How could I break through the solid phalanx of supplicating admirers?”

“At least, you might have tried.  I want to try that new step I saw you doing with Mrs. Willard.  And I always get what I want.”

“Unfortunate young lady!”

“Why unfortunate?”

“To have nothing seem unattainable.  Life must pall on you terribly.”

“Indeed, it doesn’t.  I like being a spoiled child, don’t you?  Don’t you think it’s fun having everything you want to buy, and having a leading citizen for a father?”

“Is your father a leading citizen?” asked Hal, amused.

“Of course.  So’s yours.  Neither of them quite knows which is the most leading.  Dr. Surtaine is the most popular, but I suppose Pop is the most influential.  Between the two of them they pretty much run this little old burg.  Of course,” she added with careless insolence, “Pop has got it all over Dr. Surtaine socially.

“I humbly feel that I am addressing local royalty,” said Hal, smiling sardonically.

“Who?  Me?  Oh, I’m only the irresponsible child of wealth and power.  Dr. Merritt called me that once—­before I got him tamed.”  Turning to look at the gray young man who stood not far off, and noting the quiet force and competence of the face, Hal hazarded a guess to himself that the very frank young barbarian with whom he was talking was none too modest in her estimate of her own capacities.  “Mrs. Willard is our local queen,” she continued.  “And Esme Elliot is the princess.  Have you met Esme yet?”

“Yes.”

“Then, of course, nobody else has a chance—­so long as you’re the newest toy.  Still, you might find a spare hour between-times to come and call on us.  Come on; let’s dance.”

“Pert” was the mildest term to which Hal reduced his characterization of Miss Pierce, by the time the one-step ended.  Nevertheless, he admitted to himself that he had been amused.  His one chief concern now, however, was the engagement with Miss Elliot.

When finally his number came around, he found her calmly explaining to a well-favored young fellow with a pained expression that he must have made a mistake about the number, while Mrs. Willard regarded her with mingled amusement and disfavor.