lesson was a pleasure to behold. Our
table in the dining-room became again the abode of scintillating wit and
caustic repartee, Farrar bracing up to his old standard, and the demand
for seats in the vicinity rose to an animated competition. Mr. Charles
Wrexell Allen's chair was finally awarded to a nephew of Judge Short, who
could turn a story to perfection.

So life at the inn settled down again to what it had been before the
Celebrity came to disturb it.

I had my own reasons for staying away from Mohair. More than once as I
drove over to the county-seat in my buggy I had met the Celebrity on a
tall tandem cart, with one of Mr. Cooke's high-steppers in the lead, and
Miss Thorn in the low seat. I had forgotten to mention that my friend
was something of a whip. At such times I would bow very civilly and pass
on; not without a twinge, I confess. And as the result of one of these
meetings I had to retrace several miles of my road for a brief I had
forgotten. After that I took another road, several miles longer, for the
sight of Miss Thorn with him seriously disturbed my peace of mind.
But at length the day came, as I had feared, when circumstances forced me
to go to my client's place. One morning Miss Trevor and I were about
stepping into the canoe for our customary excursion when one of Mr.
Cooke's footmen arrived with a note for each of us. They were from Mrs.
Cooke, and requested the pleasure of our company that day for luncheon.
"If you were I, would you go?" Miss Trevor asked doubtfully.

"Of course," I replied.

"But the consequences may be unpleasant."

"Don't let them," I said. "Of what use is tact to a woman if not for
just such occasions?"

My invitation had this characteristic note tacked on the end of it

"DEAR CROCKER: Where are you? Where is the judge? F. F. C."

I corralled the judge, and we started off across the fields, in no very
mild state of fear of that gentleman's wife, whose vigilance was seldom
relaxed. And thus we came by a circuitous route to Mohair, the judge
occupied by his own guilty thoughts, and I by others not less disturbing.
My client welcomed the judge with that warmth of manner which grappled so
many of his friends to his heart, and they disappeared together into the
Ethiopian card-room, which was filled with the assegais and exclamation
point shields Mr. Cooke had had made at the Sawmill at Beaverton.

I learned from one of the lords-in-waiting loafing about the hall that
Mrs