o up to Bardlocks' and call on Anna Belle from half-past six till
nine, and when he's got into his chair he sets and looks at the floor
and the crayon portraits till about seven; then he opens his tremblin'
lips and says, 'Reckon Schofields' must be on his way to the court-house
by this time.' And about an hour later, when Schofields' hits four
or five, he'll speak up again, 'Say, I reckon he means eight.' 'Long
towards nine o'clock, they say he skews around in his chair and says,
'Wonder if he'll strike before time or after,' and Anna Belle answers
out loud, 'I hope after,' for politeness; but in her soul she says, 'I
pray before'; and then Schofields' hits her up for eighteen or twenty,
and Anna Belle's company reaches for his hat. Three Sundays ago he
turned around before he went out and said, 'Do you like apple-butter?'
but never waited to find out. It's the same programme every Sunday
evening, and Jim Bardlock says Anna Belle's so worn out you wouldn't
hardly know her for the blithe creature she was last year--the
excitement's be'n too much for her!"

Poor William Todd bent his fiery face over the table and suffered the
general snicker in helpless silence. Then there was quiet for a space,
broken only by the click of knives against the heavy china and the
indolent rustle of Cynthia's fly-brush.

"Town so still," observed the landlord, finally, with a complacent
glance at the dessert course of prunes to which his guests were helping
themselves from a central reservoir, "Town so still, hardly seems like
show-day's come round again. Yet there's be'n some shore signs lately:
when my shavers come honeyin' up with, 'Say, pa, ain't they no urrands
I can go for ye, pa? I like to run 'em for you, pa,'--'relse, 'Oh, pa,
ain't they no water I can haul, or nothin', pa?'--'relse, as little
Rosina T. says, this morning, 'Pa, I always pray fer _you_ pa,' and
pa this and pa that-you can rely either Christmas or show-day's mighty
close."

William Todd, taking occasion to prove himself recovered from confusion,
remarked casually that there was another token of the near approach of
the circus, as ole Wilkerson was drunk again.

"There's a man!" exclaimed Mr. Martin with enthusiasm. "There's
the feller for _my_ money! He does his duty as a citizen more
discriminatin'ly on public occasions than any man I ever see. There's
Wilkerson's celebration when there's a funeral; look at the difference
between it and on Fourth of July. Why, s