he daughter of Judge
Anselm Fisher might with propriety unbend, and was actually
pleasant--for her. After supper Dic insisted that Mrs. Bays should go to
the front room, and that he should be allowed, as in olden times, when
he was a boy, to assist Rita in "doing up" the after-supper work. So he,
wearing an apron, stood laughingly by Rita's side drying the dishes
while she washed them. There were not enough dishes by many thousand,
and when the paltry few before them had been dried and placed in a large
pan, Dic, while Rita's back was turned, poured water over them, and, of
course, they all had to be dried again. Rita laughed, and began her task
anew.

"Who would have thought," she whispered, shrugging her shoulders, "that
washing dishes could be such pleasant work."

Dic acknowledged his previous ignorance on the subject. He was for
interrupting the work semi-occasionally, but when the interruptions
became too frequent, she would say: "Don't, Dic," and laughingly push
him away. She was not miserly. She was simply frugal, and Dic had no
good reason to complain. After every dish had been washed and dried many
times, Rita started toward her torture chamber, the front room.

At the door she whispered to Dic:--

"Mr.--that man is in there. He will remain all evening, and I want you
to stay till he goes."

"Very well," responded Dic. "I don't like that sort of thing, but if you
wish, I'll stay till morning rather than leave him with you."

Williams was on hand, and as a result Rita had no words for any one.
There was no glorious fireplace in the room, and consequently no cosey
ciphering log. In its place was an iron stove, which, according to Rita,
made the atmosphere "stuffy."

Toward nine o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Bays retired, and the "sitting-out"
tournament began. The most courteous politeness was assumed by the
belligerent forces, in accordance with established custom in all
tournaments.

The great clock in the corner struck ten, eleven, and twelve o'clock.
Still the champions were as fresh as they had been at nine. No one could
foretell the victor, though any one could easily have pointed out the
poor victim. After ten o'clock the conversation was conducted almost
entirely by Williams and Dic, with a low monosyllable now and then from
Rita when addressed. She, poor girl, was too sleepy to talk, even to
Dic. Soon after twelve o'clock the knight from Blue, pitying her, showed
signs of surrender; but she at once awo