randum book.

"A note from the mills, sir," said Jesse, "by one of the hands."

"Tell him to wait."

He read it, and threw it over to me. It was from Parker, who informed
Mr. Morgeson that he was going by the morning's train to Boston,
thinking it was time for him to leave his employ; that, though the
fault was his own in the difficulty of the day before, a Yankee could
not stand a knock-down. It was too damned aristocratic for an employer
to have that privilege; our institutions did not permit it. He thanked
Mr. Morgeson for his liberality; he couldn't thank him for being
a good fellow. "And would he oblige him by sending per bearer the
arrears of salary?"

"Parker is in love with a factory girl. He quarreled with one of the
hands because he was jealous of him, and would have been whipped by
the man and his friends; to spare him that, I knocked him down. Do you
feel better now, Cassy?"

"Better? How does it concern me?"

He laughed.

"Put Black Jake in the wagon," he called to Jesse.

Alice heard him and came downstairs; we went out on the _piazza_, to
see him off. "Why do you go?" she asked, in an uneasy tone.

"I must. Wont you go too?"

She refused; but whispered to me, asking if I were afraid?

"Of what?"

"Men quarreling."

"Cassandra, will you go?" he asked. "If not, I am off. Jump in behind,
Sam, will you?"

"Go," said Alice; and she ran in for a shawl, which she wrapped round
me.

"Alice," said Charles, "you are a silly woman."

"As you have always said," she answered, laughing. "Ward the blows
from him, Cassandra."

"It's a pretty dark night for a ride," remarked Sam.

"I have rode in darker ones."

"I dessay," replied Sam.

"Cover your hand with my handkerchief," I said; "the wind is cutting."

"Do you wish it?"

"No, I do not wish it; it was a humanitary idea merely."

He refused to have it covered.

The air had a moldy taint, and the wind blew the dead leaves around
us. As we rode through the darkness I counted the glimmering lights
which flashed across our way till we got out on the high-road where
they grew scarce, and the wind whistled loud about our faces. He laid
his hand on my shawl. "It is too light; you will take cold."

"No."

We reached the mills, and pulled up by the corner of a building, where
a light shone through a window.

"This is my office. You must go in--it is too chilly for you to wait
in the wagon. Hold Jake, Sam, till I come back."

I followed hi