me; I believe that it would be the other way, and it is not
out of fear that I propose a setting aside of our indefinite agreement
to meet each other. But be that as it may, we will call it off unless
you insist, and if you do, why, as a gentleman I shall be compelled to
meet you. I am brave enough to confess that I can't help but admire you
morally and physically. In a small way, I was once a demonstrator of
anatomy, and from an outside estimate I must pronounce you as fine a
specimen of manhood as I ever saw. And if you'll come over to the house
we'll take a long drink on the strength of it."

"The spirit of your hospitality is not lost upon me, Doctor, but the
truth is, I never drink. But with a cheerful willingness I accept your
other proposition--to set aside our engagement. It was no more your
fault than mine."

"Yes, it was, Mr. Hawes--I wantonly nagged at you. But we will let it
drop. Under present conditions we can't be very good friends, but there
will come a time when you must acknowledge that malice may know what it
is to be honest, if not generous."

"Don't go now, Doctor; you have interested me. Tell me what you mean."

"I wish you good-day, Mr. Hawes," was his reply, as he strode off down
the lane. And he left me holding him in a strange sort of regard; he had
flattered me and had hinted at a future generosity. Could it be that he
intended to modify his evidence when again he should appear against
Alf? A demonstrator of anatomy--and he could soothe a nerve as well as
expose a muscle. I felt kindly toward him as I rode along, though
blaming myself for my weakness. But I have never known a very large man
who had not some vital weakness--of vanity, egotism, over-generosity,
foolish tenderness--something in ill-keeping with a well-poised
morality. With old Sir John we have more flesh, and, therefore, more of
frailty.

As I came within sight of the house I saw three men slowly walking about
in the yard, and, upon reaching the gate, I recognized them as Parker,
Jucklin and Perdue. I turned the horse into a lot and joined them.

"Well," said Jucklin, "it's all over and I have sold out to Parker."

"Not the house, too!" I cried in alarm.

The old man smiled and winked at Parker. "Well, not quite," he said.
"Guinea told me what you wanted, and sir, you can have it, though I tell
you right now that it ain't worth much."

"Will you take two hundred dollars?"

"Not from you, Bill. You may have the house a