d a better hall than the Canopy to give
it under," said Offitt. "And now, gentlemen, we'd better get back our
own way."

As Farnham rode home he was not much puzzled by his adventure in the
woods. He remembered having belonged, when he was a child of ten, to a
weird and mysterious confraternity called "Early Druids," which met in
the depths of groves, with ill-defined purposes, and devoted the hours
of meeting principally to the consumption of confectionery. He had
heard for the past few months of the existence of secret organizations
of working-men--wholly outside of the trades-unions and unconnected
with them--and guessed at once that he had disturbed a lodge of one of
these clubs. His resentment did not last very long at the treatment to
which he had been subjected; but still he thought it was not a matter
of jest to have the roads obstructed by ruffians with theories in their
heads and revolvers in their hands, neither of which they knew how to
use. He therefore promised himself to consult with the chief of police
the next morning in regard to the matter.

As he rode along, thinking of the occurrence, he was dimly conscious of
a pleasant suggestion in something he had seen among the hazel brush,
and searching tenaciously in his recollection of the affair, it all at
once occurred to him that, among the faces of the men who came out of
the thicket in the scuffle, was that of the blonde-bearded, blue-eyed
young carpenter who had been at work in his library the day Mrs.
Belding and Alice lunched with him. He was pleased to find that the
pleasant association led him to memories of his love, but for a moment
a cloud passed over him at the thought of so frank and hearty a fellow
and such a good workman being in such company. "I must see if I cannot
get him out of it," he said to himself, and then reverted again to
thoughts of Alice.

Twilight was falling, and its melancholy influence was beginning to
affect him. He thought less and less of the joy of his love and more of
its hopelessness. By the time he reached his house he had begun to
confront the possibility of a life of renunciation, and, after the
manner of Americans of fortune who have no special ties, his mind
turned naturally to Europe. "I cannot stay here to annoy her," he
thought, and so began to plot for the summer and winter, and, in fancy,
was at the second cataract of the Nile before his horse's hoofs,
ringing on the asphalt of the stable-yard, recalled hi