had presented against us? General Trumble replied to this suggestion
with a personal one to the effect that a man capable of saying a good
word for so monstrous a slander, that a man, sir, capable of declaring
his native country to be vain or sensitive ought to be horsewhipped, and
at this Crailey laughed consumedly.

Trumble retorted with the names of Benedict Arnold and Aaron Burr. "And
if it comes to a war with these Greasers," he spluttered apoplectically,
"and it is coming, mighty soon, we'll find Mr. Gray down in Mexico,
throwing mud on the Stars and Stripes and cheering for that one-legged
horse-thief, Santa Anna! Anything to seek out something foolish amongst
your own people!"

"Don't have to seek far, sometimes, General," murmured Crailey, from the
depths of the best chair in the club, whereupon Trumble, not trusting
himself to answer, went out to the street.

And yet, before that same evening was over, the General had shed honest
tears of admiration and pity for Crailey Gray; and Miss Betty saw her
Incroyable again, for that night (the second after the Carewe dance)
Rouen beheld the great warehouse tire.

CHAPTER V. Nero not the Last Violinist of his Kind

Miss Carewe was at her desk, writing to Sister Cecilia, whom she most
loved of all the world, when the bells startled her with their sudden
clangor. The quill dropped from her hand; she started to her feet,
wide-eyed, not understanding; while the whole town, drowsing peacefully
a moment ago, resounded immediately with a loud confusion. She ran to
the front door and looked out, her heart beating wildly.

The western sky was touched with a soft rose-color, which quickly became
a warm glow, fluctuated, and, in the instant, shot up like the coming of
a full Aurora. Then through the broken foliage of the treetops could be
seen the orange curls of flames, three-quarters of a mile away though
they were.

People, calling loudly that "it was Carewe's warehouses," were running
down the street. From the stable, old Nelson, on her father's best
horse, came galloping, and seeing the white figure in the doorway, cried
out in a quavering voice, without checking his steed.

"I goin' tell yo' pa, Miss Betty, he in de kentry on lan' bus'ness. Go
back in de house, Missy!"

The other servants, like ragged sketches in the night, flitted by, with
excited ejaculations, to join the runners, and Miss Betty followed them
across the dew-strewn turf in her night slipper