Briscoe and Tom Meredith made their way through the crowd, and climbed

into the buckboard. "All right, Lige," called the judge to Willetts, who

was at the horses' heads. "You go get into line with the boys; they want

you. We'll go down on Main Street to see the parade," he explained to the

ladies, gathering the reins in his hand.

He clucked to the roans, and by dint of backing and twisting and turning

and a hundred intricate manoeuvres, accompanied by entreaties and

remonstrances and objurgations, addressed to the occupants of surrounding

vehicles, he managed to extricate the buckboard from the press; and once

free, the team went down the road toward Main Street at a lively gait. The

judge's call to the colts rang out cheerily; his handsome face was one

broad smile. "This is a big day for Carlow," he said; "I don't remember a

better day's work in twenty years."

"Did you tell him about Mr. Halloway?" asked Helen, leaning forward

anxiously.

"Warren told him before we left the car," answered Briscoe. "He'd have

declined on the spot, I expect, if we hadn't made him sure it was all

right with Kedge."

"If I understood what Mr. Smith was saying, Halloway must have behaved

very well," said Meredith.

The judge laughed. "He saw it was the only way to beat McCune, and he'd

have given his life and Harkless's, too, rather than let McCune have it."

"Why didn't you stay with him, Tom?" asked Helen.

"With Halloway? I don't know him."

"One forgives a generous hilarity anything, even such quips as that," she

retorted. "Why did you not stay with Mr. Harkless?"

"That's very hospitable of you," laughed the young man. "You forget that I

have the felicity to sit at your side. Judge Briscoe has been kind enough

to ask me to review the procession from his buckboard and to sup at his

house with other distinguished visitors, and I have accepted."

"But didn't he wish you to remain with him?"

"But this second I had the honor to inform you that I am here distinctly

by his invitation."

"His?"

"Precisely, his. Judge Briscoe, Miss Sherwood will not believe that you

desire my presence. If I intrude, pray let me--" He made as if to spring

from the buckboard, and the girl seized his arm impatiently.

"You are a pitiful nonsense-monger!" she cried; and for some reason this

speech made him turn his glasses upon her gravely. Her lashes fell before

his gaze, and at that he took her hand and kissed it quickly.




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