resent conditions, aspirations, and future welfare of the
two combatants, and of the lovely girl over whom they had quarrelled,
neglected by the gossipers. No day passed without an extended discussion
of their affairs. Bearers of fresh news were eagerly welcomed both to
toddy and tea tables.

Old Morris Murdoch, who knew Willits's father intimately, being a strong
Clay man himself, arrived at one of these functions with the astounding
information that Willits had called on Miss Seymour, wearing his hat in
her presence to conceal his much-beplastered head. That he had then
and there not only made her a most humble apology for his ill-tempered
outbreak, which he explained was due entirely to a combination of
egg-and-brandy, with a dash of apple-toddy thrown in, but had declared
upon his honor as a gentleman that he would never again touch
the flowing bowl. Whereupon--(and this excited still greater
astonishment)--the delighted young lady had not only expressed her
sympathy for his misfortunes, but had blamed herself for what had
occurred!

Tom Tilghman, a famous cross-country rider, who had ridden in post haste
from his country seat near Moorlands to tell the tale--as could be seen
from his boots, which were still covered with mud--boldly asserted of
his own knowledge that the wounded man, instead of seeking his native
shore, as was generally believed, would betake himself to the Red
Sulphur Springs (where Kate always spent the summer)--accompanied by
three saddle horses, two servants, some extra bandages, and his devoted
sister, there to regain what was left of his health and strength. At
which Judge Pancoast had retorted--and with some heat--that Willits
might take a dozen saddle horses and an equal number of sisters, and
a bale of bandages if he were so minded, to the Springs, or any other
place, but he would save time and money if he stayed at home and looked
after his addled head, as no woman of Miss Seymour's blood and breeding
could possibly marry a man whose family escutcheon needed polishing as
badly as did his manners. That the fact--the plain, bold fact--and here
the judge's voice rose to a high pitch--was that Willits was boiling
drunk until Harry's challenge sobered him, and that Kate hated
drunkenness as much as did Harry's mother and the other women who had
started out to revolutionize society.

What that young lady herself thought of it all not even the best-posted
gossip in the club dared to venture an