? Is there anything
happened?" asked Alfred as he pulled the clothes up over his head to
hide his laughter.

The father replied: "Yes there has and I feared you were mixed up in it.
I am glad you came in early tonight." Then the father informed Alfred
that some half a dozen rowdies had hidden in the old tannery and
bombarded the Potts procession with all sorts of missiles and _things_.
He told of the rage of Keifer, the plight of Todd, etc.

Alfred was sorry the joke on Cousin Albert had miscarried but it seemed
to him the hand of fate guided his aim, as all those who suffered were
unfriendly, all save Sammy Rowland. He was a good friend with whom
Alfred had labored in the tan-yard.

Alfred went to sleep laughing and arose laughing. His mirth excited
comment; it was so continued. The mother often asserted that Alfred,
from the time he was a baby, always awoke laughing in the morning. But
his mirth was so uproarious this morning that it caused the father to
look worried.

Finally, he called Alfred into an adjoining room. Looking him full in
the face he asked: "Did you have a hand in that affair last night?"

Had Alfred been threatened with death he could not have suppressed his
laughter. The more he laughed the more serious the father became. He had
become satisfied that Alfred was connected with the reprehensible act.
The father continued threateningly:

"Well, my boy, you keep on, there will be an end to this kind of work. I
cannot protect you if it gets out on you; it will be the worst blow you
ever inflicted upon this family." Thus the father talked until Alfred
said: "Well, Pap, I hope you are not going to connect me with this thing
just because I laughed."

"No, but I have a feeling that you know something of it. Those
associated with you in this thing will be very apt to blame it all on
you."

"Oh no, they won't. Now, just because I laugh _you're_ going to swear
this thing onto me."

"I am not," replied the father. "The whole town is laughing for that
matter but it will go none the less hard with those engaged in it. I
wouldn't go over in town if I were you," advised the father as he left
the room.

Alfred made his way to Potts' shoe-shop, passing the old tan-house on
the way. Broken transparency, bits of candles, and other odds and ends
were scattered over the ground. The white-washed fence opposite the
window in the old tan-house had the appearance of a field covered with
snow, with here and there