er go."

"Huh!... Hain't you got no backbone? You do like you're told. You stay
where you be. 'Tain't possible fer you to go back to Locker's store, and
that puts you out of a job, don't it?"

"Yes."

"Hard up?"

"I can live a few days--but--"

"Hain't no buts. You kin live as long as I say so. You stay hitched to
this here hitchin' post, and I'll 'tend to the money. Jest don't do
nothin' but be where you be--and be makin' up your mind if Homer's the
boy you kin love and cherish, or if he's nothin' but a sort of shady
restin' place.... G'-by."

He got up abruptly and went out. On the bridge he encountered three dark
figures, which, upon inspection, resolved themselves into Old Man Bogle,
Deacon Pettybone, and Elder Hooper.

"Scattergood," said the elder, "somethin's happened."

"Somethin' 'most allus does."

"This here's special and horrifyin'."

"Havin' to do with what?"

"That coffee gal, that baggage, that hussy!"

"Um!... Sich as?"

"Recall that show Bogle was took to in Boston?"

"Where the wimmin wore tights--that's been on his mind ever since?
Calc'late I do. Kind of a high spot in Bogle's life. Come nigh bein' the
makin' of him."

"He claims he recognizes this here gal as one of them dancin' wimmin
that stood in a row with less on to them than any woman ever ought to
have with the lights turned on."

"No!" exclaimed Scattergood.

"Yep!" said all three of them in chorus.

"Stood right in front, as I recall it, a-makin' eyes and kickin' up her
heels that immodest you wouldn't b'lieve. Looked right at me, too. I
seen her."

"Got your money's wuth, then, didn't ye? Wa-al?"

"Suthin's got to be done."

"Sich as?"

"Riddin' the town of her."

"Go ahead and rid it, then.... G'-by."

"But we want you sh'u'd help us."

"G'-by," said Scattergood again, as he moved off ponderously into the
darkness.

The elder moved nearer Bogle and endeavored to peer into his face. "Be
you sure she's the same one?" he asked, in a confidential whisper.

"Wa-al--they was about the same heft," said Bogle, "and if this hain't
her, it ought to be. I kin b'lieve it, can't I? Got a right to b'lieve
it, hain't I? Good fer the town to b'lieve it, hain't it?"

"Calc'late 'tis."

"All right, then. I aim to keep on b'lievin' it."

Next day Homer Locker abandoned his work and with the utmost brazenness
hired a rig at the livery and drove to the hotel. A group of notables
assembled upon the bridge to watch the