summer people; and, indeed, interest in the affair had permeated all
grades and classes of society.

* * * * *

It was some six weeks after the settlement of the transaction in "pork"
that David and John were driving together in the afternoon as they had
so often done in the last five years. They had got to that point of
understanding where neither felt constrained to talk for the purpose of
keeping up conversation, and often in their long drives there was little
said by either of them. The young man was never what is called "a great
talker," and Mr. Harum did not always "git goin'." On this occasion they
had gone along for some time, smoking in silence, each man absorbed in
his thoughts. Finally David turned to his companion.

"Do you know that Dutchman Claricy Verjoos is goin' to marry?" he asked.

"Yes," replied John, laughing; "I have met him a number of times. But he
isn't a Dutchman. What gave you that idea?"

"I heard it was over in Germany she run across him," said David.

"I believe that is so, but he isn't a German. He is from Philadelphia,
and is a friend of the Bradways."

"What kind of a feller is he? Good enough for her?"

"Well," said John, smiling, "in the sense in which that question is
usually taken, I should say yes. He has good looks, good manners, a good
deal of money, I am told, and it is said that Miss Clara--which is the
main point, after all--is very much in love with him."

"H'm," said David after a moment. "How do you git along with the Verjoos
girls? Was Claricy's ears pointed all right when you seen her fust after
she come home?"

"Oh, yes!" replied John, smiling, "she and her sister were perfectly
pleasant and cordial, and Miss Verjoos and I are on very friendly
terms."

"I was thinkin'," said David, "that you an' Claricy might be got to
likin' each other, an' mebbe--"

"I don't think there could ever have been the smallest chance of it,"
declared John hastily.

"Take the lines a minute," said David, handing them to his companion
after stopping the horses. "The nigh one's picked up a stone, I guess,"
and he got out to investigate. "The river road," he remarked as he
climbed back into the buggy after removing the stone from the horse's
foot, "is about the puttiest road 'round here, but I don't drive it
oftener jest on account of them dum'd loose stuns." He sucked the air
through his pursed-up lips, producing a little squeaking sound, and the
ho