"That's the Lord's truth," responded Tom Alford.

"Why, when he first j'ined the stinkin' radicals," continued Britt Hanson, "a pa.s.sel of the boys, me among 'em, laid off to pay him a party call, an' string him up. Well, the very day we'd fixed on, here comes Becky over to my house; an' she fetched the baby, too. I knowed, time I laid eyes on her, that she had done got wind of what we was up to. Says she to me, 'Britt, I hear it whispered around that you are fixin' up to do me next to the worst harm a man can do to a woman.' 'Why, Becky,'

says I, 'I wouldn't harm you for the world, and I wouldn't let anybody else do it.' 'Oh, yes, you would, Britt,' says she. She laughed as she said it, but when I looked in her big eyes, I could see trouble and pain in 'em. I says to her, says I, 'What put that idee in your head, Becky?'

And says she, 'No matter how it got there, Britt, so long as it's there.

You're fixin' up to hurt me an' my baby.'

"Well, sirs, you can see where she had me. I says, says I, 'Becky, what's to hender you from takin' supper here to-night?' This kinder took her by surprise. She says, 'I'd like it the best in the world, Britt; but don't you think I'd better be at home--to-night?' 'No,' says I, 'a pa.s.sel of the boys'll be here d'reckly after supper, and I reckon maybe they'd like to see you. You know yourself that they're all mighty fond of you, Becky,' says I. She sorter studied awhile, an' then she says, 'I'll tell you what I'll do, Britt--I'll come over after supper an' set awhile.' 'You ain't afeard to come?' says I. 'No, Britt,' says she; 'I ain't afeard of nothin' in this world except my friends.' She was laughin', but they ain't much diff'ence betwixt that kind of laughin'

an' cryin'.

"About that time, mother come in. Says she, 'An' be sh.o.r.e an' fetch the baby, Becky.' The minnit mother said that, I know'd that she was the one that told Becky what we had laid off to do. You-all know what happened after that."

"We do that away," said George Rivers. "When I walked in on you, and seen Becky an' the baby, I know'd purty well that the jig was up, but I thought I'd set it out and see what'd happen."

"I never seen a baby do like that'n done that night," remarked Tom Alford. "It laughed an' it crowed, an' helt out its han's to go to ever'

blessed feller in the crowd; an' Becky looked like she was the happiest creetur in the world. I was the fust feller to cave, an' I didn't feel a bit sheepish about it, neither. I rose, I did, an' says, 'Well, boys, it's about my bedtime, an' I reckon I'll toddle along,' an' so I handed the baby to the next feller, an' mosied off home."

"You did," said Britt Hanson, "an' by the time the boys got through pa.s.sin' the baby to the next feller, there wan't any feller left but me.

An' then the funniest thing happened that you ever seed. You know how Becky was gwine on, laughin' an' talkin'. Well, the last man hadn't hardly shet the door behind him, when Becky flopped down and put her head in mother's lap, and cried like a baby. I'm mighty glad I ain't married," Britt Hanson went on. "There ain't a man in the world that knows a woman's mind. Why, Becky was runnin' on and laughin' jest like a gal at picnic up to the minnit the last man slammed the door, and then, down she went and began to boohoo. Now, what do you think of that?"

"I know one thing," remarked George Rivers--"the meaner a man is, the quicker he gits the pick of the flock. The biggest fool in the world allers gits the best or the purtiest gal."

Then there was a pause, as if the men were listening. "Well," said Tom Alford, after awhile, "we ain't after the gals now. That Hotchkiss feller goes out to Mahlon's by fust one road and then the other. You know where Ike Varner lives; well, Ike's wife is a mighty good-lookin'

yaller gal, an' when Hotchkiss knows that Ike ain't at home, he goes by that road. I got all that from a n.i.g.g.e.r that works for me. If Ike ain't at home, he goes in for a drink of water, an' then he tells the yaller gal how to convert Ike into bein' a radical--Ike, you know, don't flock with that crowd. That's what the gal tells my n.i.g.g.e.r. Well, I put a flea in Ike's ear t'other day, an' night before last, Ike comes to me to borry my pistol. You know that short, single-barrel shebang? Well, I loant it to him on the express understandin' that he wasn't to shoot any spring doves nor wild pea-fowls."

The men laughed, and then sat or stood silent, each occupied with his own reflections, until Sam Hathaway returned. Whereupon, they moved on, one of them singing, in a surprisingly sweet tenor, the ballad of "Nelly Gray."

It was now dark, and ordinarily, Gabriel would have gone to supper. But, instead of doing that, he went on toward town, and met Hotchkiss and Boring on the outskirts. They were engaged in a close discussion when Gabriel met them. It would have been a great deal better for him and his friends if he had pa.s.sed on without a word; but Gabriel was Gabriel, and he was compelled to act according to Gabriel's nature. So, without hesitation, he walked up to the two men.

"Is this Mr. Hotchkiss?" he inquired.

"That is my name," replied Hotchkiss in his smoothest tone.

"Are you going out to b.u.t.ts's to-night?"

"Now, that is a queer question," remarked Hotchkiss, after a pause--"a very queer question. What is your name?"

"Tolliver--Gabriel Tolliver."

"Gabriel Tolliver--h'm--yes. Well, Mr. Tolliver, why are you so desirous of knowing whether I go to b.u.t.ts's to-night?"

"Honestly," replied Gabriel, a little nettled at the man's airs, "I don't want to know at all. I simply wanted to advise you not to go there to-night."

"Oh, you wanted to _advise_ me not to go. Now, then, let's go a little further into the matter. _Why_ do you want to advise me?" Hotchkiss was a man who was not only ripe for a discussion at all times, and upon any subject, but made it a point to emphasise all the most trifling details.

"Have you any special interest in my welfare?"

"I think not," replied Gabriel, bluntly. "I simply wanted to drop you a hint. You can take it or not, just as you choose." With that, he turned on his heel, and went home to supper, little dreaming that his kindness of heart, and his sincere efforts to do a stranger a favour would involve him in a tangled web of circ.u.mstances, from which he would find it almost impossible to escape.

Gabriel heard Hotchkiss laugh, but he did not hear the remark that followed.

"Why, even the children and the young men think I am a coward. They have the idea that courage exists nowhere but among themselves. It is the most peculiar mental delusion I ever heard, and it persists in the face of facts. The probability is that the young man who has just delivered this awful warning has laid a wager with some of his companions that he can fill me full of fright and prevent my going to b.u.t.ts's."

"Now, I don't think that," replied Boring, or Bridalbin. "I know these people to the core. I had their ideas and thought their thoughts until I found that sentiment doesn't pay. That young man has probably heard some threat made against you, and he thinks he is doing the chivalrous thing to give you a warning. Chivalry! Why, I reckon that word has done more harm to this section, first and last, than the war itself."

"Or, more probable still," suggested Hotchkiss, his voice as smooth and as flexible as a snake, "he was simply trying to find out whether I propose to go to b.u.t.ts's to-night. If I had some one to keep an eye on him, we might be able to procure some important information, disclosing a conspiracy against the officers of the Government. A few arrests in this neighbourhood might have a wholesome and subduing effect."

"Don't you believe it," said Bridalbin. "I know these people a great deal better than you do."

"I know them a great deal better than I care to," remarked Hotchkiss drily. "I have not a doubt that this young Tolliver was one of that marauding band of conspirators that surrounded the church recently, and endeavoured to intimidate our coloured fellow-citizens. Nor do I doubt that these same conspirators will make an effort to frighten me. I have no doubt that they will make a strong effort to run me away. But they can't do it, my friend. I feel that I have a mission here, and here I propose to stay until there is no work for me to do."

"Well, I can keep an eye on Tolliver if you think it best," Bridalbin suggested somewhat doubtfully. "I know where he lives."

"Do that, Boring," exclaimed Hotchkiss with grateful enthusiasm. "Come to the lodge about nine or half-past, and report." The "lodge" was the new name for the old school-house, and in that direction Hotchkiss turned his steps.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

_Bridalbin Follows Gabriel_

Boring, or Bridalbin--no one ever discovered why he changed his name, for he changed neither his nature nor his a.s.sociations--followed along after Gabriel, and was in time to see him enter the door and close it behind him. The Lumsden Place was somewhat in the open, but the trees, where Bridalbin took up his position of watcher, made such dense and heavy shadows that it was almost impossible to distinguish objects more than a few feet away. In these heavy shadows Bridalbin stood while Gabriel was supposed to be eating his supper.

A dog trotting along the walk shied and growled when he saw the motionless figure, but after that, there was a long period of silence, which was finally broken by voices on a veranda not far away. The owners of the voices had evidently come out for a breath of fresh air, and were carrying on a conversation which had begun inside. Bridalbin could see neither the house nor the occupants of the veranda, but he could hear every word that was said. One of the voices was soft and clear, while the other was hard, almost harsh, yet it was the voice of a woman. If Bridalbin had been at all familiar with Shady Dale, he would have known that one of the speakers was Madame Awtry and the other Miss Puella Gillum.

"It was only a few weeks ago that they told the poor child about her father," said Miss Puella. "Neighbour Tomlin couldn't muster up the courage to do it, and so it became f.a.n.n.y's duty. I know it nearly broke her heart."

"Why did they tell her at all? Why did they think it was necessary?"

inquired Madame Awtry. Her voice had in it the quality that attracts attention and compels obedience.

"Well, you know Margaret is of age now, and Neighbour Tomlin, who is made up of heart and conscience, felt that it would be wrong to keep her in ignorance, but he couldn't make up his mind to be the bearer of bad news; so it fell to f.a.n.n.y's lot. But it seems that Margaret already knew, and on that occasion f.a.n.n.y had to do all the crying that was done.

Margaret had known it all along, and had only feigned ignorance in order not to worry her mother. 'I have known it from the first,' she said.

'Please don't tell Nan.' But Nan had known it all along, and f.a.n.n.y told Margaret so. It is a pity about her father. If he was what he should be, he'd be very proud of Margaret."

"His name was Bridlebin, or something of that kind, was it not?" Madame Awtry asked.

"Something like that," replied Miss Puella. "The world is full of trouble," she said after awhile, and her voice was as gentle as the cooing of a dove--"so very full of trouble. I sometimes think that we should have as much pity for those who are the cause of it as for those who are the victims." Alas! Miss Puella was thinking of Waldron Awtry, whose stormy spirit had pa.s.sed away.

"That is the Christian spirit, certainly," said Waldron's mother, in her firm, clear tones. "Let those live up to it who can!"

"The girl is in good hands," remarked Miss Puella, after a pause, "and she should be happy. Neighbour Tomlin and f.a.n.n.y fairly worship her."

"Yes, she's in good hands," responded Madame Awtry, "yet when she comes here, which she is kind enough to do sometimes, it seems to me that I can see trouble in her eyes. It is hard to describe, but it's such an expression as you or I would have if we were dependent, and something was wrong or going wrong with those on whom we depended. But it may be merely my imagination."

"It certainly must be," Miss Puella declared, "for there is nothing wrong or going wrong with Neighbour Tomlin and f.a.n.n.y."

At this point the conversation ceased, and the two women sat silent, each occupied with her own thoughts. Miss Puella wondered that Madame Awtry could even imagine trouble at the Tomlin Place, while the Madame was smiling grimly to herself, and pitying Miss Puella because she could not perceive what the trouble really was. "What a world it is! what a world!" Madame Awtry said to herself with a sigh.