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Keith was standing against the wall thinking of Terpy and the old hail with its paper hangings in Gumbolt, and its benches full of eager, jovial spectators, when suddenly there was a roll of applause, and he found himself in Gumbolt. From the side on which he stood walked out his old friend, Terpy herself. He had not been able to see her until she was well out on the stage and was making her bow.
"Terpy was that skeered about you, she swore she was goin' down there to help you," said the miner who still held the hat. A box on the ear from the young woman stopped whatever further observation he was going to make. "Shut up. Don't you see he's hurt?" She pushed away the man who was helping Keith off with his coat, and took his place.
Plume's guidance, he sought the entertainment of Terpsichore's Hall. He had been greatly struck by Terpy that night on the road, when she had faced down the men and had afterwards bound up Keith's arm. He had heard from Plume rumors of her frequent trips over the road and jests of her fancy for Keith. He would test it.
Gilsey's nieces I am glad to meet you" The young woman burst out laughing. "Lor', no. I ain't anybody's niece; but he's my uncle I've adopted him. I'm Terpy Terpsichore, run Terpsichore's Hall," she said by way of explanation, as if she thought he might not understand her allusion. Keith's breath was almost taken away. Why, she was not at all like the picture he had formed of her.
He was ashamed to find himself much relieved when some one he met volunteered the information that Bluffy had left town by light that morning. "Couldn't stand the racket. Terpy wouldn't even speak to him. But he'll come back. Jest as well tote your gun a little while, till somebody else kills him for you."
To his surprise, he found Terpy stony to his advances. Her eyes glittered with dislike for him. He became one of the highest players that had ever entered the gilded apartment on Terpsichore's second floor; he ordered more champagne than any man in Gumbolt; but for all this he failed to ingratiate himself with its presiding genius.
Terpy, with a cry, dashed forward, and was just in time to catch Keith as he sank beneath the black water. When the rescuing party with their burdens reached the surface once more, the scene was one to revive even a flagging heart; but Keith and Bluffy were both too far gone to know anything of it.
It was not a woman's tap, yet Terpy and Phrony Tripper both sprang into Keith's mind. Almost at the same moment the door opened slowly, and pausing on the threshold stood J. Quincy Plume. But how changed from the Mr. Plume of yore, the jovial and jocund manager of the Gumbolt Whistle, or the florid and flowery editor of the New Leeds Clarion!
It is shameful!" said Lois Huntington in a low voice to Keith. "It is. The cowardly scoundrel!" He turned and scowled at Ferdy. At the sound, Terpy took a step toward the front, and bending forward, swept the audience with her flashing eyes. "Put that man out." A buzz of astonishment and laughter greeted her outbreak. "Cackle, you fools!" She turned to the musicians.
She had raven-black hair and brows; but even as she stood, there was something in the pose that seemed familiar to Keith, and as she stepped forward and bowed with a little jerk of her head, and then, with a nod to the orchestra, began to dance, Keith recognized Terpy. That abandon was her own. As she swept the boxes with her eyes, they fell on Keith, and she started, hesitated, then went on.
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