CHAPTER V
The two fiddlers were tuning their instruments when the party from thehouse entered the rosy-lighted mess-hall. Jo started forward with an airof assurance to claim Pen. When he beheld her, he stopped abruptly, lostin admiration of the daintily clad young person whose Castle-cut locks hadbeen lured to a coiffure from which little tendrils escaped in babyishrings.
Jakey Fourr, second violin, glimpsed her at the same time and noticed Jo'shesitating halt.
"Ladies' Choice!" he shouted with a grin.
Jo looked at her expectantly but vainly; for she gladdened the pride ofFrancis by choosing him as her partner. Betty and Billy mutually choseeach other. Mrs. Kingdon selected a newcomer. Agatha and the "other girl"asked their particular friends, and the cook spitefully "sat it out." Penhad to follow the prim little steps learned by Francis at a city dancingschool the winter before, and Sleepy Sandy thoughtfully timed his tunethereto and shortened the number. Then Jo started for the belle of theball, but a youth in combination attire of hunter, cowboy and soldier wasahead of him.
"Would you honor me, ma'am?" he asked.
She would and did, but she never learned the name of the wonderful dancewith which she "honored" him. It had been a case of "whither thou goest, Iwill go."
Again Sleepy Sandy was considerate and cut this number short also.
Then Betty came running breathlessly up to Pen.
"Jo says if you don't dance with him this next time like you promised,he'll drown the kittens. Please, Aunt Pen!"
Jo was promptly on hand this time.
"This is mine," he asserted, "unless you're danced out by that gink."
"My dancing blood isn't up yet," she said, slipping into his arms. Shedidn't care to know the name of the dance. All she knew was the ecstasy ofthe moment in the flowing, melting rhythm. Jo had the easy assurance ofthe dancer born, and she went where he willed, as if she were floating onsilver wires. Finally, Sleepy Sandy, watching them in envious admiration,was aware that he had played as long as the law of limit allowed.
"Isn't this better than Reilly's?" she asked demurely.
"There will never in the world be to me a night like the one at Reilly's,"he replied.
"Jo, why don't you go into vaudeville? Your dancing would bring you twicewhat your work here must."
"Mine is a man's job," he retorted. "I'd rather dance horseback than onany stage. I have to go over to Farley with a lot of cattle to-morrow. Itwill take me three days. You will arrange to see me again when I comeback?"
"I surely will, Jo," she promised.
"Don't let Jo monopolize you," said Kingdon, coming up to them at theclose of the dance. "We try to give the boys plenty of recreation, andthey don't get many girls to dance with. None like you."
Pen dutifully promised to do penance with the rank and file.
"I'll go and ask the cook," said Jo mournfully, "else I won't get halfrations. Then I'll come back for you."
Reluctantly he gave way to Gene and approached the cook.
"Say!" he asked with a quirk to his mouth, "want to hook on to thewishbone?"
"Those darned brats fetch and carry everything they hear," she exclaimed.
"Forget it. A wishbone's the best bone to pick anyway."
Thereafter he waited patiently for Pen to do her duty dances and slip onein with him.
Pen went to sleep that night with blissful recollections of her wonderfuldances with Jo and a vague curiosity as to whether Kurt Walters coulddance.
For the greater part of three days she sewed assiduously, surrounded thewhile by three admiring children who listened entranced to a new kind ofScheherazade tales. Between times she gathered flowers for the many jugsand jars, learned to make salads and to perform little household dutieshitherto unknown. Then suddenly there came a swift change of mood. Thesense of uneasiness, the need of freedom, the desire that pervades thewistful note of the imprisoned bird was in her blood.
"My life is too full of work-days," she declared. "Three days ofdomesticity! I can no more. I will see if Jo hasn't returned."
Seeking new fields that night, she slipped surreptitiously down to themess hall.
"Halloa!" greeted Jo rapturously. "I've been watching for you, Li'l PennyAnte. Just got back. What you been doing since the dance?"
"Behaving. And I must get even some way or go stark mad. What have youbeen doing?"
"Me? Jakey here and I've been entertaining ourselves with a game ofcraps."
"Play it with me instead. It's the only game I've never learned."
"Sure, I'll show you. Sit down here on the floor."
Later Kingdon, in search of the missing guest, strolled down to the messhall, guided thither by a rippling laugh chorused with responsiveguffaws.
Curious, he looked in. Seated on the floor were Jo and Pen excitedlyplaying an evenly matched game, while an adoring circle of men applauded,encouraged and scoffed in turn.
There were two patches of crimson in Pen's cream-white cheeks, a brightsparkle of excitement in her eyes, which changed to the apprehensive lookof a child expecting reproof as she looked up and saw Kingdon.
"I'm having such a good time!" she told him deprecatingly.
He smiled.
"You look it. The children and the rest of us are lamenting your absence.We want a good time, too."
"I'll come again," she promised, with a backward look at the men, as shedocilely walked on with Kingdon.
Jo hurried after them.
"To-morrow's field day," he reminded her. "You'll be there?"
"I'm living on the thought of it. You're the manager, aren't you?"
He grinned.
"_Acting_ manager--for Kurt Walters."
"Mayn't I do a stunt, too?" she asked eagerly.
"Sure thing, you may. We'll be glad to have a novelty in the way of a ladyperformer. What'll it be?"
"I'll see you in the morning and tell you what I can do."
Mrs. Kingdon smiled understandingly when she heard of the game of craps.
"Just a few days up here have done wonders for you," she observed, lookingat her young charge approvingly.
"Yes; I feel physically fit--like a real soldier."