might at any time, by an
injudicious step or a harder coughing-spell, end his life through the
opening of that old wound, for which they held either Madelon or
Burr, or perhaps both, accountable; and public indignation swelled
higher and higher. It was resolved that when the bridal couple
returned a constant espionage should be kept upon them, and in case
of Lot's death active measures should be taken.

"We ain't goin' to have a man murdered to death in our midst by no
French and Injuns nowadays and let it slide," proclaimed a fiery
spirit in the store one night. Then when the door opened and Abner
Hautville, dark and warlike in his carriage as any fighting chief,
appeared, the man asked ostentatiously for a "quart of m'lasses, and
not so black and gritty as the last was nuther," transferring the
rancor in his tone to an inoffensive object with Machiavellian
policy.

However, Margaret Bean's husband was in the store that night, and
heard it all. He had been sent thither for a half-pound of ginger,
and told not to linger; but linger he did, disposing his old bones
with a stiff fling upon a handy half-barrel and listening to every
word with a shrewd sense, for which no one would have given him
credit, that he could by repetition and enlargement, if necessary,
appease his wife's wrath at his delay. The workings of the human mind
towards selfish ends even in the simplest organization have an art
beyond all mechanism, and can astonish the wisest when revealed.

Nobody who saw old man Bean pottering homeward that night, his back
bent with age, yet moving with a childlike shuffle, carrying his
parcel of ginger with tight clutch lest he drop it, like one whose
weariness of body must make up for feebleness of mind, dreamed what a
diplomat he was in his humble walk of life, and what an adept still
in doubles and turns and twists and dodges towards his own petty
ends.

A sweeter morsel than any sugar old man Bean, overborne with a sense
of naughtiness and disobedience, like a child, carried home to his
wife to quiet her chiding tongue.

Hardly had he entered the door when he heard afar the swift rattle of
her starched skirts, like a very warning note of hostility, and cut
in ahead of her reproaches with a triumphant manner.

"Pretty doin's there's goin' to be," said he; "never was nothin' like
it in this town. That's what I stayed for. Thought ye'd orter know."

"What do you mean?" asked Margaret Bean, staring.

"Ye kno