save
for the heels, like sharp racing-shells; these were partially protected
by tan-colored low gaiters with flat, shiny, brown buttons. In one
hand the youth swung a bone-handled walking-stick, perhaps an inch and
a half in diameter, the other carried a yellow leather banjo-case, upon
the outer side of which glittered the embossed-silver initials, "E. B."
He was smoking, but walked with his head up, making use, however, of a
gait at that time new to Canaan, a seeming superbly irresponsible
lounge, engendering much motion of the shoulders, producing an effect
of carelessness combined with independence--an effect which the
innocent have been known to hail as an unconscious one.

He looked about him as he came, smilingly, with an expression of
princely amusement--as an elderly cabinet minister, say, strolling
about a village where he had spent some months in his youth, a hamlet
which he had then thought large and imposing, but which, being
revisited after years of cosmopolitan glory, appeals to his whimsy and
his pity. The youth's glance at the court-house unmistakably said:
"Ah, I recall that odd little box. I thought it quite large in the days
before I became what I am now, and I dare say the good townsfolk still
think it an imposing structure!" With everything in sight he deigned to
be amused, especially with the old faces in the "National House"
windows. To these he waved his stick with airy graciousness.

"My soul!" said Mr. Davey. "It seems to know some of us!"

"Yes," agreed Mr. Arp, his voice recovered, "and _I_ know IT."

"You do?" exclaimed the Colonel.

"I do, and so do you. It's Fanny Louden's boy, 'Gene, come home for
his Christmas holidays."

"By George! you're right," cried Flitcroft; "I recognize him now."

"But what's the matter with him?" asked Mr. Bradbury, eagerly. "Has he
joined some patent-medicine troupe?"

"Not a bit," replied Eskew. "He went East to college last fall."

"Do they MAKE the boys wear them clothes?" persisted Bradbury. "Is it
some kind of uniform?"

"I don't care what it is," said Jonas Tabor. "If I was Henry Louden I
wouldn't let him wear 'em around here."

"Oh, you wouldn't, wouldn't you, Jonas?" Mr. Arp employed the accents
of sarcasm. "I'd like to see Henry Louden try to interfere with 'Gene
Bantry. Fanny'd lock the old fool up in the cellar."

The lofty vision lurched out of view.

"I reckon," said the Colonel, leaning forward to see the last of it--"I