isfiggered him any, and
his nerves have got over their terrible strain."

Tim ran promptly through all the notes in his diapason, and the rest
joined in on the middle register.

"Well, I'm not at all surprised," said Mr. Oldunker, a bitter States'
Rights Democrat, and the oracle of his party. "I told you how it'd be
from the first. Harry Glen was one of them Wide-Awakes that marched
around on pleasant evenings last Fall with oil-cloth capes and kerosene
lamps. I told you that those fellows'd be no where when the war they
were trying to bring on came. I'm not at all astonished that he showed
himself lily-livered when he found the people that he was willing to
rob of their property standing ready to fight for their homes and their
slaves."

"Ready to shoot into a crowd of unsuspecting men, you mean," sneered
Basil Wurmset, "and then break their own cursed necks when they saw a
little cold steel coming their way."

Tim came in promptly with his risible symphony.

"Well, they didn't run away from any cold steel that Harry Glen
displayed," sneered Oldunker.

Tim's laugh was allegro and crescendo at the first, and staccato at the
close.

"You seem to forget that Capt. Bob Bennett was a Wide-Awake, too,"
retorted Wurmset, "though you might have remembered it from his having
threatened to lick you for encouraging the boys to stone the lamps in
the procession."

Tim cackled, gurgled and roared.

Nels Hathaway had kept silent as long as he could. He must put his oar
into the conversational tide.

"I'd give six bits," he said, "to know how the meeting between him and
Rachel Bond passes off. He's gone up to the house. The boys seen him,
all dressed up his best. But his finery and his perfumed hankerchiefs
won't count anything with her, I can tell YOU. She comes of fighting
stock, if ever a woman did. The Bonds and Harringtons--her mother's
people--are game breeds, both of 'em, and stand right on their record,
every time. She'll have precious little traffic with a white-feathered
fellow. I think she's been preparing for him the coldest shoulder any
young feller in Sardis's got for many a long day."

There was nothing very funny in this speech, but a good deal of risible
matter had accumulated in Tim's diaphragm during its delivery which he
had to get rid of, and he did.

Harry had heard enough. While Tim's laugh yet resounded he walked away
unnoticed, and taking a roundabout course gained his room. There he
remained