never thought to see the day you'd have a rival in my
affections. Miss Seliny, but yonder looks like it. I reckon I'll have
to go up to Ben Tinkle's and buy that fancy vest he's had in stock this
last twelve year or more. Will you take me back when she's left the city
again; Miss Seliny?" he drawled. "I expect, maybe, Miss Sherwood is
one of these here summer girls. I've heard of 'em but I never see one
before. You better take warning and watch me--Fisbee won't have no clear
field from now on."

The stranger leaned across to speak to Miss Briscoe and her sleeve
touched the left shoulder of the old man with the patriarchal white
beard. A moment later he put his right hand to that shoulder and gently
moved it up and down with a caressing motion over the shabby black
broadcloth her garment had touched.

"Look at that old Fisbee!" exclaimed Mr. Martin, affecting indignation.
"Never be 'n half as spruced up and wide awake in all his life. He's
prob'ly got her to listen to him on the decorations of Nineveh--it's my
belief he was there when it was destroyed. Well, if I can't cut him out
we'll get our respected young friend of the 'Herald' to do it."

"Sh!" returned Miss Tibbs. "Here he is."

The seats upon the platform were all occupied, except the two foremost
ones in the centre (one on each side of a little table with a lamp, a
pitcher of ice-water, and a glass) reserved for the lecturer and the
gentleman who was to introduce him. Steps were audible in the hall, and
every one turned to watch the door, where the distinguished pair now
made their appearance in a hush of expectation over which the beating
of the fans alone prevailed. The Hon. Kedge Halloway was one of the
gleaners of the flesh-pots, himself, and he marched into the room
unostentatiously mopping his shining expanse of brow with a figured
handkerchief. He was a person of solemn appearance; a fat gold
watch-chain which curved across his ponderous front, adding mysteriously
to his gravity. At his side strolled a very tall, thin, rather
stooping--though broad-shouldered--rather shabby young man with a
sallow, melancholy face and deep-set eyes that looked tired. When they
were seated, the orator looked over his audience slowly and with an
incomparable calm; then, as is always done, he and the melancholy young
man exchanged whispers for a few moments. After this there was a pause,
at the end of which the latter rose and announced that it was his
pleasure and his