bition, or political leanings, during the half-year which had just
passed, he had not shown them. Mr. Cluyme (no mean business man himself)
had pronounced Eliphalet a conservative young gentleman who attended
to his own affairs and let the mad country take care of itself. This
is precisely the wise course Mr. Hopper chose. Seeing a regiment of
Missouri Volunteers slouching down Fifth street in citizens' clothes he
had been remarked to smile cynically. But he kept his opinions so close
that he was supposed not to have any.

On Thursday of Camp Jackson week, an event occurred in Mr. Carvel's
store which excited a buzz of comment. Mr. Hopper announced to Mr.
Barbo, the book-keeper, that he should not be there after four o'clock.
To be sure, times were more than dull. The Colonel that morning had read
over some two dozen letters from Texas and the Southwest, telling of the
impossibility of meeting certain obligations in the present state of the
country. The Colonel had gone home to dinner with his brow furrowed.
On the other hand, Mr. Hopper's equanimity was spoken of at the widow's
table.

At four o'clock, Mr. Hopper took an Olive Street car, tucking himself
into the far corner where he would not be disturbed by any ladies who
might enter. In the course of an hour or so, he alighted at the western
gate of the camp on the Olive Street road. Refreshing himself with a
little tobacco, he let himself be carried leisurely by the crowd between
the rows of tents. A philosophy of his own (which many men before and
since have adopted) permitted him to stare with a superior good nature
at the open love-making around him. He imagined his own figure,--which
was already growing a little stout,--in a light gray jacket and duck
trousers, and laughed. Eliphalet was not burdened with illusions of that
kind. These heroes might have their hero-worship. Life held something
dearer for him.

As he was sauntering toward a deserted seat at the foot of a tree, it so
chanced that he was overtaken by Mr. Cluyme and his daughter Belle. Only
that morning, this gentleman, in glancing through the real estate column
of his newspaper, had fallen upon a deed of sale which made him wink. He
reminded his wife that Mr. Hopper had not been to supper of late. So now
Mr. Cluyme held out his hand with more than common cordiality. When Mr.
Hopper took it, the fingers did not close any too tightly over his own.
But it may be well to remark that Mr. Hopper himself