As Regnan pursued his moving anniversary suit the boys fell in behind and shouted: "Run, partner, run! The sum that's after you is an old head plus young legs. Run, partner, run!" Here the boys left their partner and Regnan to finish the race.

"Stop, thief!" cried Regnan. The boy looked back, and, thinking the fiddle a club, turned and ran into a pond. They were now on the edge of the town. Regnan called to the boy to come out, and raised the fiddle involuntarily.

"If you throw," said the boy, "I will dip up water in your hat."

Regnan called again, and up went the fiddle.

"If you throw," cried the boy, "I will lie down in the water."

It was growing darker. The boy was going farther into the pond.

"It is the fiddle that frightens him," said Regnan to himself. He laid it beside a tree. "See, my boy, see! My hands are empty. I will come to you." He plunged into the pond and followed the boy.

"I will wait on this side. The club is over there," rejoined the boy, going all the while.

In trying to increase his pace, and watch at the same time, he stumbled and fell up to his neck in the water. The beaver upset and floated.

Regnan caught it and pushed on. When the boy reached the bank his wits came to him. He pulled off the coat and vest, left them and disappeared in the darkness. Regnan embraced the hat, vest, and coat as he walked around the pond to get his fiddle. He was wet and felt a chill coming upon him. He sat down beside the fiddle. For an hour he shivered and thought of his wife, the neighbors, and the anniversary. All at once he thought of Nordad the tinker.

Just then someone rode a horse up to the pond a short distance from him and let the reins fall for it to drink.

"Am I to be kidnapped like Nordad the tinker?" whispered Regnan to himself. "I will crawl off." In dragging the fiddle one of the strings was broken. The noise frightened the horse. It plunged through the pond.

The rider, in trying to reach the reins, fell into the water, but quickly rose to his feet and started in pursuit of the fleeing horse.

Soon both horse and rider were out of sight and hearing.

Regnan breathed freely and said: "My fiddle, it may be you have saved me from being kidnapped." He then arose and started homeward. An hour later he was on the lawn before his house. Posey, arrived home some time since, came up to him.

"Posey, my girl," said he, "I wonder if your mistress is as patient as you are. Oh, how could she be?"

He then crept up to a corner of the house where he could see and hear.

Everything showed that Kitty had done her duty. She was sitting in the center of some twenty women. Some were fanning her; some were crying.

Others were at her back conducting a mock marriage. The men and women at the window were discussing Regnan aloud.

"He should never marry _me_ again," said one woman.

"I would never let the first marriage stand," said another.

"Don't be too hard on Regnan," spoke up one on the inside. "Remember his widow is listening."

"What think you of his case?" asked a young man of an old one.

"Well," answered the old man, "old Welby, who was a wiser man than Regnan, killed himself upon a similar occasion."

"Gentlemen," asked the woman from within, "do you think that Kitty would look well in mourning?"

The women on the outside laughed. Some of those on the inside cried aloud. Kitty buried her head in her hands.

Regnan, now understanding the state of affairs, ran into the room and cried: "My Kitty!" His breeches were wet and muddy and he had on the wet, muddy swallow-tailed coat and vest. He held the wet, bedraggled hat in one hand and the broken fiddle in the other. At his call Kitty made no motion, but kept her face hidden. The women formed a close circle around her. Those on the outside sneered: "My Kitty!" while the men yelled: "Scat, old tom, scat!" and "Is he drunk?" "Is he crazy?" "Is he going to kill Kitty?" "Help! Help! Call an officer!"

These were some of the cries that came from different parts of the room.

Regnan ran around the circle, crying: "My Kitty! Am I drunk? Am I crazy?

Am I going to kill you, Kitty?" Now two men seized Regnan and dragged him toward the door.

Just then the preacher entered the other door, wet and muddy from head to foot. He raised his hand, and Regnan was released. Kitty, noting the hush, peeped through her fingers, first at Regnan and then at the preacher. There was a tense silence. The preacher now spoke. He told of Regnan's trouble with the fiddle, clothes, and pond.

"How do you know?" asked Regnan.

"It was my boy who kept the vest, coat, and beaver in the lead. Tell the adventure yourself."

"Not here! I will tell it to Kitty."

"What about yourself, parson?" asked Kitty.

"While on my way here," said the preacher, "I stopped my horse at the pond to drink. There was a noise like the breaking of a fiddle string."

"The fiddle again," interrupted Regnan, and held it up.

"My horse became frightened and ran through the pond. I fell off, waded out, and have not seen the horse since."

"That's true, ladies and gentlemen."

"How do you know?" asked the preacher.

"I was there, parson." Regnan then told of the chill, the broken string, and the accident to the rider.

By this time the people were around the edges of the room, leaving Kitty, Regnan, and the preacher in the middle.

Regnan kissed his wife, and said: "Are you my Kitty?"

"Since you and the parson are so much alike in dress and story, he may answer for me."

"I will, my good woman." He said a few solemn words, and the important business of the night was over.

For many days the town was alive with the story of Regnan's anniversary. Thereafter, whenever Regnan wished to tell Kitty the story he always played a march on the fiddle first.

The preacher later turned his boy over to Regnan to be punished for his mischief.

It was decided that he should go on the wagon with Regnan for three months and cry out: "Rags, old iron." The lad did so willingly. During his enforced apprenticeship his father died, leaving him homeless, as his mother had died in his infancy, and Regnan adopted the boy, who became a valuable a.s.sistant to the old man in his business. Before the lad was of age Regnan and Kitty both died, and left the preacher's son a snug little fortune. He kept the fiddle to remind him of the ways of Providence.

"KOTCHIN' DE NINES"

(A NEGRO TALE CURRENT IN LOUISVILLE)

"Git up from dar. Whut's you dreamin' erbout? No need ter ask, fer I knows. You's dreamin' right now 'bout kotchin' dem nines. I bounds you dun had er dream last night. I knows it by dat smile in de corner of your mouth. You kin smile outen both corners, ef you wants ter, but you don't git dis fifty cents I got."