tual fondness (though Crailey seemed to dislike nobody), was
betokened by a furtive understanding, of a sort, between them. They held
brief, earnest conversations on the street, or in corners when they
met at other people's houses, always speaking in voices too low to be
overheard; and they exercised a mysterious symbolism, somewhat in the
manner of fellow members of a secret society: they had been observed to
communicate across crowded rooms, by lifted eyebrow, nod of head, or a
surreptitious turn of the wrist: so that those who observed them knew
that a question had been asked and answered.

It was noticed, also, that there were five other initiates to this
masonry: Eugene Madrillon, the elder Chenoweth, General Trumble,
Tappingham Marsh, and Jefferson Bareaud. Thus, on the afternoon
following Miss Betty's introduction to Rouen's favorite sons and
daughters, Mr. Carewe, driving down Main Street, held up one forefinger
to Madrillon as he saw the young man turning in at the club. Eugene
nodded gravely, and, as he went in, discovering Marsh, the General, and
others, listening to Mr. Gray's explanation of his return from the river
with no fish, stealthily held up one finger in his turn. Trumble replied
with a wink, Tappingham nodded, but Crailey slightly shook his head.
Marsh and the General started with surprise, and stared incredulously.
That Crailey should shake his head! If the signal had been for a
church-meeting they might have understood.

Mr. Gray's conduct was surprising two other people at about the same
time: Tom Vanrevel and Fanchon Bareaud; the former by his sudden
devotion to the law; the latter by her sudden devotion to herself. In a
breath, he became almost a domestic character. No more did he spend his
afternoons between the club and the Rouen House bar, nor was his bay
mare so often seen stamping down the ground about Mrs. McDougal's
hitching-post while McDougal was out on the prairie with his engineering
squad. The idle apprentice was at his desk, and in the daytime he
displayed an aversion for the streets, which was more than his partner
did, for the industrious Tom, undergoing quite as remarkable an
alteration of habit, became, all at once, little better than a
corner-loafer. His favorite lounging-place was a small drug-store
where Carewe Street debouched upon Main; nevertheless, so adhesive is a
reputation once fastened, his air of being there upon business deceived
everyone except Mr. Gray.

Miss