go to his store, then I'll tell
you what we could do. The public wagon-yard is the best place to see the
tournament from. I could unhitch at the edge of the sidewalk in the
shade of the trees, and you'd have a reserved seat through it all."

"That's _some_ better, anyway," she said, as if relieved. "I come near
showing my temper, didn't I? Well, I've got one hid away inside of me,
and it kicks up sand sometimes when I'm least expecting it."

Leaving his sprightly charge in the buggy watching the gathering of the
festive crowd and listening to the blatant music of the town band from
the balcony of the Carlton House, Henley, making some excuse about
having to mail a letter, hastened round a corner and down to Long's
store.

The young man, in his best suit of clothes and with the odor of bay-rum
in his smooth, compact hair, and the barber's powder on his
razor-scraped face, was busy giving instructions to his chief clerk.

"Don't come to me to ax a single question," Henley overheard him saying.
"This is _one_ day I simply will have off. If there is anything you
don't know about, let it lie over--tell 'em I'm on the committee of
entertainment, tell 'em any darned thing you want to, but don't bother
me. Oh!" He had caught sight of Henley, who stood half hidden by a stack
of soap-boxes, and came forward, his face falling. "My Lord, Alf, don't
tell me you didn't fetch her in!" he panted. "Good Lord, don't say
that!"

Henley grinned and explained the situation, much to the storekeeper's
relief.

"It don't railly make any great difference." Long twisted his small
mustache under its coat of pomade till the ends looked like facial
spikes, and pulled at his white waistcoat. "I had a nigger make a bucket
of lemonade with ice in it, and left an order at the hotel for three of
the best meals they know how to put up. I supply the shebang with
produce, and I stand in with 'em. They would spread themselves for me. I
was counting on having us all three eat in my back-room. I wanted to do
exactly the right thing, you see, so she'd know at the outset that I
understand how to make a woman comfortable, and that I ain't a man to
split hairs when it comes to a little outlay."

"The back-room wouldn't suit at all." Henley was already a wiser man
than when he left home that morning. "I wouldn't think of asking her or
any decent woman to eat in a room where you bunk, or where anybody
bunks, for that matter--male or female."

"I'll just