New Sanderson, and bidding Charlotte
farewell. He finally decided not to do so. He had no reason to think
that she would care especially to have him, and while his
self-respect, in spite of his perfect cognizance of the disadvantages
of his position, was sufficient not to make him hesitate on that
account, he had had a feeling against intruding upon the possible
sadness of the ladies when making what they must recognize as a
forced exit from their home under humiliating circumstances. It did
not occur to him that they might possibly not feel so.

Carroll, left on the platform while the train steamed out of sight,
in its backward trail of smoke full of rainbow lights in the frosty
air, turned to go home. He was going to walk. Martin had driven the
family to the station, and had himself gotten on the rear car of the
train. He was about seeking employment in New Sanderson. One of the
horsemen had driven off with the rig; the other was waiting for a
word with Carroll. The discussion was short, heated, and profane on
one side; calm, low, and imperturbable on the other.

"You'll have it in the end," Carroll said, as he turned to go.

"The end has got to come pretty darned quick," the other retorted,
jumping into his little trotting-gig and spinning off.

The others of the crowd had melted away rather quickly. Minna Eddy
had clambered into the wagon and gathered up the reins, while her
husband retained the wailing baby. In truth, in spite of her bravado,
she had some little doubts as to the wisdom of her confiscation of
the rug. Madame Griggs, actuated by a similar doubt, also fluttered
away swiftly down the street. The men also, upon making sure that
Carroll was not intending to abscond, retreated. Carroll was quite
alone when the horseman spun away in his gig, with its swift spokes
flashing in blinding rings of light as he disappeared around the
curve. It was one of those mornings in the fall when the air is so
clear that the sunlight seems intensified. There had been a hard
frost the night before, and a delicate rime was still over the
ground, only melting in the sunniest spots. Only the oak leaves, a
brownish-red shag mostly on the lower branches, were left on the
trees. The door-yards were full of dried chrysanthemums, the windows
gay with green-house plants. The air was full of the smell of smoke
and coffee and frying things, for it was Banbridge's breakfast-hour.
Men met Carroll on their way to the next train to th