had just broken over
a protracted drouth--one of a year and a half--and the group was shaking
sad heads over the county attorney's downfall. The doctor was saying,
"It's a disease, just as the 'ladies, God bless 'em' will become a
disease with Tom Van Dorn if he doesn't stop pretty soon--a nervous
disease and sooner or later they will both go down. Poor Henry--Bedelia
and I noticed him at the charity ball last night; he was--"

"A trifle polite--a wee bit too punctilious for these latitudes,"
laughed Brotherton from behind the counter.

"I was going to say decorative--what Mrs. Nesbit calls ornate--kind of
rococco in manner," squeaked the doctor, and sighed. "And yet I can see
he's still fighting his devil--still trying to keep from going clear
under."

"It's a sh-sh-sh-a-ame that ma-a-an should have th-that kind of a
d-d-d-devil in him--is-isis-n't it?" said Kyle Perry, and John
Kollander, who had been smoking in peace, blurted out, "What else can be
expected under a Democratic administration? Of course, they'll return
the rebel flags. They'll pension the rebel soldiers next!" He looked
around for approval, and the smiles of the group would have lured him
further but Tom Van Dorn came swinging through the door with his
princely manner, and the Doctor rose to go. He motioned George
Brotherton to the rear of the room and said gently:

"George--old man Mauling died an hour ago; John Dexter and I were there
at the last. And John sent word for me to have you get your choir
out--so I'll notify Mrs. Nesbit. Dexter said he was a lodge member with
you--what lodge, George?"

"Odd Fellow," returned the big man, then asked, "Pall-bearer?"

"Yes," returned the Doctor. "There's no one else much but the lodge in
his case. You will sing him to sleep with your choir and tuck him in as
pall-bearer as you've been doing for the dead folks ever since you came
to town." The Doctor turned to go, "Meet to-night at the house for choir
practice, I suppose?"

Brotherton nodded, and turned to take a bill from Tom Van Dorn, who had
pocketed a handful of cigars and a number of papers.

"We were just talking about Henry, Tom," remarked Mr. Brotherton, as he
handed back the change.

"He's b-back-sl-slidden," prompted Perry.

"Oh, well--it's all right. Henry has his weaknesses--we all have our
failings. But drunk or sober he danced a dozen times last night with
that pretty school teacher from Prospect Township." Grant looked up from
his b