in the sunlit afternoon when there rode into the head
of the street of old St. Genevieve a weary and mud-stained
horseman, who presently dismounted at the hitching rail in front of
the little inn which he favored with his company. He was a tall
man who, as he turned down the street, walked with just the
slightest trace of a limp.

This traveler did not turn into the inn, did not pause, indeed, at
any of the points of greater interest, but sought out the little
cooper shop of Hector Fournier. That worthy greeted him, wiping
his hands upon his leathern apron.

"Eh, bien, then, it is Monsieur Dunwodee! Come in! Come in! I'll
been glad for see you. There was those talk you'll would not came."

"Yes, I have come, Hector," said Dunwody, "and naturally, I have
come to see you first. You are one of the few political allies
that I have left. At least, if you don't believe the way I do, you
are generous enough to listen!"

"But, Monsieur, believe me, the situation here is difficult. I had
a list here of twelve citizen of St. Genevieve who were willing
for listen to Monsieur Dunwodee to-night in a grand mass meeting;
but now talk has gone out. There is much indignation. In fact, it
is plan'--"

"What do you mean? What is going on?" demanded Dunwody.

"Alas! Monsieur, it is with regret I announce that the majority of
our citizen, who so dislike Monsieur Benton and his views, are much
in favor of riding upon a rail, after due treatment of the tar and
the feather, him who lately was their idol; that is to say,
yourself, Monsieur!"

Dunwody, his face grim, leaned against the door of the little shop.
"So that is the news?" said he. "It seems hardly generous, this
reception of St. Genevieve to myself! It is too bad that my
friend, Mr. Benton, is not here to share this hospitality of yours!"

"As I have said, alas! Monsieur!"

"But, now, as to that, Hector, listen!" said Dunwody sharply. "We
will hold the meeting here just the same. We do not run away!
To-night, in front of the hall there.

"But why trouble about that?" he added, almost lightly. "What
comes, comes. Now, as to yourself and your mother--and your wife?"

"And those baby!" exclaimed Hector. "Assuredly monsieur does not
forget the finest baby of St. Genevieve? Come, you shall see
Josephine St. Auban Jeanne Marie Fournier--at once, _tout de
suite_. _Voila_!" Hector was rolling down his sleeves and
loosening the string of his leathern apr