The Spoilers of the Valley Part 34

"Once! Spirit of my great-great-grandfather! You talk like Methuselah."

"I haven't danced for five years."

"Good heavens, man! This five years of yours gets on my nerves. You must have Rip Van Winkled five years of your precious life away."

The remark bit deep; and Phil grew solemn and did not reply.

Jim looked into his face soberly, then placed his arm on Phil's shoulder.

"Sorry, old man! I'm an indiscreet idiot. Didn't mean to be rude," he said.

Phil smiled.

"But say," Jim urged, still bent on providing himself with some amus.e.m.e.nt, "go to it and enjoy yourself. Go on, man;--don't be scared!" he goaded.

Phil undoubtedly was scared, although he felt fairly sure, after that first interview in the smithy, that Eileen Pederstone had not recognised him. But he knew he would be running a risk. As he looked at her across the dancing floor, as she sat there in her soft, shimmering silks, her cheeks aglow, her eyes dancing with happiness and her brown curls straying over her forehead--elfish-like rather than humanly robust--he was tempted, sorely tempted indeed.

"Gee, but you're slow!" went on Jim.

"Oh, go to the devil!" Phil muttered irritably.

But Jim grinned the more; the imp in him uppermost.

"You've met her, haven't you, Phil?"

"Yes,--I spoke to her once only, in the smithy."

"Well--that's good enough for a start."

"Do you think so?"

"Sure thing! Eileen Pederstone turn you down! Man alive,--Eileen wouldn't have the heart to turn you down if you had a wooden leg. I'll tell you what! If she turns you down, I'll ask her for a dance myself; and I never danced in my life."

The music was starting up. It was a good, old-fashioned waltz.

How Phil's heart beat to the rhythm of it! The men commenced to swarm from the corridors. He took a step forward. Jim pushed him encouragingly from behind with a "Quick, man, before somebody else asks her up!" and he was in the stream and away with the current. He started across, his heart drumming a tattoo on his ribs.

Half-way over the floor--and he would have turned back but for the thought of Jim. He kept on, still somewhat indeterminately. When he got near to Miss Pederstone, she looked up almost in surprise, but the smile she bestowed on him was ample repayment for his daring.

It was the dancing waters of the Kalamalka Lake under a sunburst.

She held out her hand.

"Good evening, Mr. Ralston! Everybody seems to be here to-night."

"Of course,--isn't this _your_ night?" Phil ventured.

She beckoned him to sit down by her side.

"It isn't _my_ night," she answered; "it is my daddy's."

"You must be very happy at his wonderful victory."

"Yes,--I am very happy, just for father's sake, he was so set on it toward the finish. He is just like a boy who has won a hard race. And now he is being b.u.t.tonholed by everybody. I shall never have him all to myself any more."

The dancers were already on the floor and gliding away.

"May I have this dance?" asked Phil.

"With pleasure!" she answered. And his heart raced on again, in overwhelming delight. "But first, let us sit just for a moment or so.

"Is Jim Langford with you to-night?" she asked.

"Yes,--he is over there by the door."

"He is a great boy, Jim," she said. "Everybody likes him, and yet he is so terribly foolish at times to his own interests. He doesn't seem to care anything for money, position or material progress. And he is so clever; he could accomplish anything almost, if he set his mind to it. And,--and he is always a gentleman."

"Yes! Jim's pure gold right through," Phil answered with enthusiasm.

"Mr. Ralston, I think you are the only man he has ever been known really to chum with. And he doesn't dance," she added.

"So he tells me."

"Sometimes I fancy he _can_ dance, but refuses to admit it for some particular reason of his own. He looks like a dancer."

"Quite possible!" Phil returned. "I never thought of it in that light."

"He does not seem to hanker after a lady's company very much. He is most at home with the men folks."

"He told me, only a few minutes ago, that he was not a lady's man."

"Ah, but he is!" she differed. "It is true he does not show any inclination for the company of young ladies, but he is very much a lady's man all the same. There isn't a young lady in this hall but would be proud to have the honour of Jim Langford's company and companionship at any time. He is of that deep, mercurial disposition that attracts women. It is good for Jim Langford that he does not know his own power," she said, nodding her dainty head suggestively.

"Shall I tell him?" teased Phil.

"No!--let him find that out for himself. He will enjoy it all the more when he does. Some day, I hope, the right young lady will wake him up.

Then maybe he won't be 'Wayward' Langford any more.

"I have heard them call you 'Silent' Ralston."

Her remark startled Phil. In the first place, he fancied the nick-name that had been given him was known merely by the rougher element about town, and it sounded strangely coming from her. Again, that was the name they had given him in Ukalla, and it created an uncanny feeling in him that it, of all nick-names, should again fasten to him.

"But you aren't really so silent,--are you now?"

"No!--I can hold my own in the field of conversation. It is just a foolish name some one tagged on, one day, for lack of brains to think of anything more apt;--and it has stuck to me ever since, as such things have a habit of doing."

"'Wayward' Langford and 'Silent' Ralston!" She turned the words on her tongue reflectively. "What a peculiar combination!"

Phil laughed, but refused to be drawn further.

"Are you as wayward as he?" she asked.