and a woman in his stead who must have her money. He wrote
again--sorely against his will--begging Richards to raise the money
somehow. Richards's answer was in his pocket, for he wore the best black
broadcloth in which he had done honor to the lawyer, yesterday. Richards
plainly was wounded; but he explained in detail to Nelson how he
(Nelson) could borrow money of the banks on his farm and pay Miss Brown.
There was no bank where Richards could borrow money; and he begged
Nelson not to drive his wife and little children from their cherished
home. Nelson choked over the pathos when he read the letter to Tim; but
Tim only grunted a wish that HE had the handling of that feller. And the
lawyer was as little moved as Tim. Miss Brown needed the money, he said.
The banks were not disposed to lend just at present; money, it appeared,
was "tight;" so, in the end, Nelson drove home with the face of Failure
staring at him between his horses' ears.

There was only one way. Should he make Richards suffer or suffer
himself? Did a man have to grind other people or be ground himself?
Meanwhile they had reached the town. The stir of a festival was in the
air. On every side bunting streamed in the breeze or was draped across
brick or wood. Arches spanned some of the streets, with inscriptions of
welcome on them, and swarms of colored lanterns glittered against the
sunlight almost as gayly as they would show when they should be lighted
at night. Little children ran about waving flags. Grocery wagons and
butchers' wagons trotted by with a flash of flags dangling from the
horses' harness. The streets were filled with people in their holiday
clothes. Everybody smiled. The shopkeepers answered questions and went
out on the sidewalks to direct strangers. From one window hung a banner
inviting visitors to enter and get a list of hotels and boarding-houses.
The crowd was entirely good-humored and waited outside restaurants,
bandying jokes with true Western philosophy. At times the wagons made
a temporary blockade in the street, but no one grumbled. Bands of music
paraded past them, the escort for visitors of especial consideration.
In a window belonging, the sign above declared, to the Business Men's
Association, stood a huge doll clad in blue satin, on which was painted
a device of Neptune sailing down the Mississippi amid a storm of
fireworks. The doll stood in a boat arched about with lantern-decked
hoops, and while Nelson halted, unable to