s house shall fly, clean off its
base as soon as I--Now for Heaven's sake, ladies, it's all
settled--come on."

Whereat they laughed nervously, and took off their hats.

It was a jolly dinner party. The young fellows Red had picked up
in the blacksmith's shop were not the ordinary quality of loungers.
They were boys of good country parentage, with a common school
education, who, unfortunately, could find nothing to do but the
occasional odd job. Of course it would not take long to transform
them into common n'er-do-wells, but now they were merely
thoughtless boys.

The whole affair had an _al fresco_ flavor which stoppered
convention. The two women visitors pitched in and had as good a
time as anybody.

In the middle of the festivities a young man walked past the front
fence; a stranger evidently, for-his clothes wore the cut of a
city, and a cosmopolitan, up-to-date city at that. He stopped and
looked at the house, hesitated a moment and then walked in, back to
where the folk were eating.

"Excuse me," said he, as they looked up at him, "but isn't this Mr.
Demilt's house?"

A momentary silence followed, as it was not clear whose turn it was
to answer. Miss Mattie glanced around and finding Red's eye on
her, replied, "No sir--Mr. Demilt's house is about a mile further
up the road."

"Dear me!" said the young man ruefully. He was a spic-and-span,
intelligent looking man, with less of the dandy about him than the
air of a man who had never worn anything but clothes of the proper
trim, and become quite used to it. Nevertheless the sweat stood
out in drops on his forehead, for Fairfield's front "street"
savoured of a less moral region than it really was, on a broiling
summer day.

The young man sighed frankly and wiped his head. "Well, that's too
bad," he said. "I'm a stranger here--would you kindly tell me
where I could get some dinner?"

"What's the matter with that?" inquired Red, pointing to the roast,
which still preserved an air of fallen greatness. He had liked the
look of the other instantly.

The stranger looked first at Red and then at the roast. "The only
thing I can see the matter with that," he answered, "is that it is
a slice too thick."

"Keno!" cried Red, "you get it. Mattie, another plate and weapons
to fit. Sit down, sir, and rest your fevered feet. It you don't
like walking any better than I do, you've probably strewn fragments
of one of the commandments all the way from wh