esirable for her or not, she
desired it, without ceasing and most hungrily. On Sunday nights, when
the house had grown still, there would come upon her door the wariest of
knocks, and Johanna would enter, choose a humble seat, and stay and
stay, to tell every smallest happening of the week.

Not infrequently these recitals contained points in the history of John
March.

* * * * *

Rosemont gave one of its unexpected holidays. John March and another
senior got horses and galloped joyously away to Pulaski City, where
John's companion lived. The seat of government was there. There, too,
was the Honorable Mr. Leggett, his party being still uppermost in
Blackland. He was still custodian, moreover, of the public school funds
for the three counties.

Very late that night, as the two Rosemonters were about to walk past an
open oyster saloon hard by the Capitol, John caught his fellow's arm.
They stopped in a shadow. Two men coming from an opposite direction went
into the place together.

"Who's that white man?" whispered John. The other named a noted
lobbyist, and asked,

"Who's the nigger?"

"Cornelius Leggett." John's hand crept, trembling, to his hip pocket.

His companion grasped it. "Pshaw, March, are you crazy?"

"No, are you? I'm not going to shoot; I was only thinking how easy I
could do it."

He stepped nearer the entrance. The lone keeper had followed the two men
into a curtained stall. His back was just in sight.

"Let's slip in and hear what they say," murmured John, visibly
disturbed. But when his companion assented he drew back. His fellow
scanned him with a smile of light contempt. There were beads of moisture
on his brow. Just then the keeper went briskly toward his kitchen, and
the two youths glided into the stall next to the one occupied.

"Yass, seh," Cornelius was tipsily remarking, "the journals o' the day
reputes me to have absawb some paucity o' the school funds. Well,
supposen I has; I say, jess _supposen_ it, you know. I antagonize you
this question: did Napoleon Bonapawt never absawb any paucity o' otheh
folks' things? An' yit he was the greates' o' the great. He's my
patte'n, seh. He neveh stole jiss to be a-stealin'! An' yit wheneveh he
found it assential of his _destiny_ to steal anything, he stole it!

"O' co'se he incurred and contracted enemies; I has mine; it's useless
to translate it. My own motheh's husban'--you riccolec' ole Unc'
'Viticus, don't