it was a fine summer evening. the whole wopp family was getting ready to go to a dance, to be held at a ranch some ten miles off. an array of clean clothing was laid out on the different beds and an odor of musk-scented soap pervaded the air.

“now, moses, look sharp. quit yer foolin’ an’ git busy,” called mrs. wopp, to the son and heir, whose toilet was not even begun. she herself was busy braiding betty’s fair hair. “be sure to warsh yer neck an’ ears. larst party we was to, mis’ williams says to me, she says, ‘is that your moses settin’ on that bench? la me! he seems darker complected than i ever seed him before. i thort he were some arfrican,’ she says. i hev always been a godly woman, moses, ef i do go to a dance now an’ agin. anyhow, the good book says there is a time to dance, but it aint got no patience with dirt. git yerself cleaned up, then go an’ hook up the team.”

at this juncture there was a knock at the door. it was howard eliot who had called for nell.

howard rode his chestnut saddle-horse “the kid,” while nell had “ladybird.” moses was not so pious by nature as his mother, and he had flatly refused to have his pinto’s disposition spoiled by giving her such a name as “hephzibah” his mother’s choice.

the two riders, who were to be followed by the family in the democrat, set off at a gentle lope. before them lay the cedar hills over which the moon was just rising sharply defining their wooded crests. they followed a trail well-known to howard who had ridden the range, in this district for several years. nell, though an eastern girl, was at home in the saddle having always been accustomed to riding.

“i believe you are becoming a confirmed westerner,” said howard as they slowed down to a walk. “if you once drink slough water you know you will never like any other.”

“perhaps not,” answered nell, “i can see there are wonderful possibilities in this vast country. some day this prairie will be dotted here and there with prosperous towns. but don’t let us be serious. here’s a grand place for a race. i know ‘ladybird’ can beat ‘the kid.’”

off she darted followed by howard. the horses swept over the smooth turf in long easy strides, gradually increasing in speed as pinto and chestnut realized that this was a trial of fleetness. it was glorious, but presently nell, remembering moses’ parting injunctions in regard to his beloved pinto, pulled up. “next time, ladybird, we will win never fear,” she said consolingly, patting the horse’s sleek neck.

the dance was held in a new barn of which the floor was especially good. indeed the young people of the family had seen to that. unfortunately the stable end of the building was already in use and this proved to be somewhat inconvenient. during the festivities of the evening one delicate lady fainted from excitement and overpowering stable odors. she speedily revived, however, on being carried into the fresh air and soused with a bucket of cold water. the building was illuminated with lanterns and an occasional oil lamp. benches were ranged along the walls. the crowd was large and as usual at these affairs men predominated in numbers. the dances were mostly square ones and when a husky caller-off became hoarse and exhausted with shouting, another took his place. he usually stood at one end of the building beside the fiddler.

howard led nell through the intricacies of a square dance.

“salute your partner,” yelled geordie hodgekiss, the first caller-off.

howard gravely did as ordered.

“grand chain,” bawled geordie evidently feeling his importance, “dos-et-dos, ladies’ chain, swing on the corners, and put some feelin’ in your step.

ladies cross your lily-white hands

and gents your black and tan,

ricketty jig and away we go.”

which last order was the signal for a giddy frolic. finally, “everybody promenade, you know where,” and the dancers joined the spectators on the benches.

“here come the wopps,” said nell to her companion as the family entered, led as usual by mrs. wopp. mr. wopp came next especially scoured for the occasion, freshly shaved and with long side hair carefully oiled and combed over the bald spot on his crown. he carried a few long strips of paper in his hand. beside him walked betty inwardly disapproving of the two stiff braids with which her head was adorned. bringing up the rear was moses, his face shining with soap and satisfaction and wearing a new brown suit at least two sizes too large for him. he was bent on a good time which in his case meant sitting on a side bench with a few other youths and jeering at the mistakes of the dancers. close at his heels came jethro who had pleaded so hard to be brought along and had gazed at them with such tragic appeal in his eyes that they could not disappoint him. he was now stationed under a bench, having first been intimidated with dire threats as to what would happen to him should he come out and trip up the dancers.

“choose your partners for a quadrille,” called geordie, and once more the floor was filled. there was room for six sets and in one of these stood mr. wopp with his partner nell, while at the capacious side of mrs. wopp was howard.

“salute your partner, swing—your partner.” mrs. wopp who had expected “swing on the corner,” had seized the unfortunate mr. wopp and in spite of his struggles was spinning him violently around, while their respective partners stood and looked helplessly on.

“stop mar, lemme go, you are wrong,” gasped the little man whose efforts to escape from her clutches had grown more and more feeble. “drat that man, anyhow, why carnt he say what he means?” answered the mortified lady. the jeers of the youths on the benches added to her discomforture. nell began to wonder whether her mind and constitution were robust enough to allow her to engage in such festivities as these very often.

now the dance was a two-step and mrs. wopp, who drew a hard and fast line at round dances, declaring they were instigated by the evil one, sat and looked on talking to betty meanwhile.

“i hope when you are growed up, my dear, you will never dance them waltzes an’ two-steps. the good lord carnt love them as does sich things.”

betty who secretly preferred to trip the light fantastic toe in this manner, maintained a discreet silence.

mrs. wopp leaning towards a lady on her right inquired, “do you know mis’ stephens, why joe avery is not dancin’ this evenin’. ever sence we come into this here barn he has never moved from his seat.”

“i kin tell you, mrs. wopp. he met with an accident comin’ over. he was gittin’ through abe bower’s wire fence to save goin’ round by the gate when ben bower’s bull-dog ‘jeff’ caught sight of him. next minute joe seen the bull-dog comin’ an’ started back through the fence. land sakes! the tear he got in the seat of his pants was somethin’ shockin’.”

“pore joe! truly the way of the transgressor is hard. i feel bad fer him, to think he has to set round all evenin’ and carnt even git up to git a drink of water fer hisself.”

“i wouldn’t jist say he cant git up, mrs. wopp, fer mrs. bower sewed the tear up fer him; but the pants bein’ still on him and joe bein’ shy-like she felt too narvous to make a good job of it an’ i reckon joe is afeard those few stitches mrs. bower put in may not be very secoor.”

mr. wopp in the meantime had seated himself on the other side of betty and was busy taking notes on the dance then in progress. “it was so interestin” he said, “and the poetry might come in handy.” the dance was called “captain jinks.”

“captain jinks of the horse marine,

he feeds his horse on corn and beans.

“swing with captain jinks, swing with the horse that ate the beans, swing with the girl with the great big feet.”

though these and similar remarks seemed rather personal no resentment was felt by anybody.

as the evening wore on mrs. wopp, mrs. stephens and a few other ladies adjourned to a box stall where the refreshments were stored. pleased with the prospect of dispensing lavish hospitality from the combined larders of the neighborhood, mrs. wopp’s face radiated cheerfulness.

a small stove had been set up in the improvised kitchen, and a big boiler filled with water. this was now boiling furiously and the ladies proceeded to make the coffee. cakes and pies were cut, cups and saucers were piled in one huge basket and sandwiches in another.

“now mis’ stephens, call the boys,” requested mrs. wopp who was the busiest of the group.

armed with the big baskets, several young men of the party travelled from bench to bench, followed by others with coffee pots. the strenuous exercises of the evening, preceded in most cases by a long ride or drive, had developed vigorous appetites and the viands were disposed of with wonderful rapidity.

“aint it amazin’ how hungry one gits,” hoarsely remarked mr. wopp who had not spoken for some time owing to close application to the task in hand. “lize, i want a piece of that punkin pie of yourn.” here he caressed the bulging buttons on his waistcoat. “my mouth’s waterin’ fer it an’ i b’lieve i hev room.”

“moses, here with that pie,” called the gratified mrs. wopp, “yer par wants some.”

moses came bearing an achievement of spicy, opaque amber supported and surrounded by tantalizing, toast-brown crust. before the expectant mr. wopp, however, had time to note these details, there was a quick rush of a small black and white object, a crash, some ear-splitting howls, as moses, pie, jethro, and one of mrs. wopp’s best blue dinner plates were precipitated against mr. wopp’s legs. down his sunday trousers meandered a yellow glacier which mrs. wopp regarded with dismay.

“moses, yer as useless as the hole in a doughnut; here quick gimme yer handkerchief till i mop up yer par.”

vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, mrs. wopp hurled fresh orders.

“don’t stan’ starin’ there like betty’s chiner doll, go git another of my pies.”

this time moses was more successful. comforted, he felt he could enjoy a few morsels himself. calling the contrite jethro, who, after extricating himself from the ruins he had made, had retired under a bench, the boy made his way to a remote corner. here no parental admonitions would disturb him. he surveyed with pleased expectancy an enormous triangle of pie, a huge slab of gingerbread, a monument of glistening iced cake, half a dozen tarts, and a few other trifles he had brought with him.

supper over and dishes hurried out of sight, the floor was once more cleared and the real business of the evening was resumed.

“come on betty, you haven’t had a dance this evening. it isn’t fair for the grownups to have all the fun,” invited howard eliot.

“oh, i was havin’ lots of fun watchin’ the dancin’,” returned betty rising with childish alacrity. the wistful look that belied her words disappeared like magic.

“aint miss gordon a lovely dancer?” she interrogated, “and aint she lovely herself? i’ve been watollin’ you an’ her dance all evenin’. moses says he’s almost wore out one eye lookin’ at you both. he says he don’t go in strong fer teachers, but he thinks miss gordon is worth an eyestrain anyways.”

betty was trying to keep up the engaging flow of talk but the dance proved to require all her attention.

a grey light began to be visible through the windows. whereupon horse blankets were pressed into service and the accusing daylight was shut out. some of the more conservative members of the party began to think of home. among these was ebenezer wopp who had not danced since the opening set. he had sat for some hours in a comatose condition, except when he was aroused for a few moments by a nudge or pinch administered by his energetic wife.

“what’s the use of goin’ to a dance and settin’ sleepin’ like one of them spinxes, ebenezer?” she expostulated as she roused him from his slumbers. the good lady herself had danced almost incessantly until her face had taken on the hue of a ripe pippin.

the sun rose over the hills and his presence could be ignored no longer. as the wopp family were driving silently home in the chilly morning, moses, growing reminiscent, remarked with a yawn:

“anyhow, mar, that fust punkin pie par got was a howlin’ success.”