r a few moments and
said: "How old were you in 1875?"

"Twelve," the boy replied.

"Twelve," he repeated. "Twelve."

He turned again to his box and Edward to his.

"There doesn't seem to be anything more in this box," the boy said, "but
more papers in that suit," and he began to put the papers back.

"What do you know about that 'suit,' as you call it?" asked Mr. Beecher,
stopping in his work.

"Nothing," was the reply. "I never heard of it."

"Never heard of it?" he repeated, and he fastened that curious look upon
Edward again. It was so compelling that it held the boy. For several
moments they looked at each other. Neither spoke.

"That seems strange," he said, at last, as he renewed the search of his
box. "Never heard of it," he repeated almost to himself.

Then for fully five minutes not a word was spoken.

"But you will some day," said Mr. Beecher suddenly.

"I will what, Mr. Beecher?" asked the boy. He had forgotten the previous
remark.

Mr. Beecher looked at Edward and sighed. "Hear about it," he said.

"I don't think I understand you," was the reply.

"No, I don't think you do," he said. "I mean, you will some day hear
about that suit. And I don't know," then he hesitated, "but--but you
might as well get it straight. You say you were twelve then," he mused.
"What were you doing when you were twelve?"

"Going to school," was the reply.

"Yes, of course," said Mr. Beecher. "Well," he continued, turning on his
haunches so that his back rested against the box, "I am going to tell
you the story of that suit, and then you'll know it."

Edward said nothing, and then began the recital of a story that he was
destined to remember. It was interesting then, as Mr. Beecher
progressed; but how thrice interesting that wonderful recital was to
prove as the years rolled by and the boy realized the wonderful telling
of that of all stories by Mr. Beecher himself!

Slowly, and in that wonderfully low, mellow voice that so many knew and
loved, step by step, came the unfolding of that remarkable story. Once
or twice only did the voice halt, as when, after he had explained the
basis of the famous suit, he said:

"Those were the charges. That is what it was all about."

Then he looked at Edward and asked: "Do you know just what such charges
mean?"

"I think I do," Edward replied, and the question was asked with such
feeling, and the answer was said so mechanically, that Mr. Beecher
replied simply: "Perhaps."