test of a ditch company over a doubtfully worded legislative
document; that wholesale abuse of the State Attorney and his political
motives had not the slightest connection with the legal question
raised--it was, nevertheless, generally accepted that the losing party
would have been only too glad to have the Colonel on their side. And
Colonel Starbottle knew this, as, perspiring, florid, and panting, he
rebuttoned the lower buttons of his blue frock-coat, which had become
loosed in an oratorical spasm, and readjusted his old-fashioned,
spotless shirt frill above it as he strutted from the court-room amidst
the handshakings and acclamations of his friends.

And here an unprecedented thing occurred. The Colonel absolutely
declined spirituous refreshment at the neighboring Palmetto Saloon,
and declared his intention of proceeding directly to his office in the
adjoining square. Nevertheless, the Colonel quitted the building alone,
and apparently unarmed, except for his faithful gold-headed stick,
which hung as usual from his forearm. The crowd gazed after him with
undisguised admiration of this new evidence of his pluck. It was
remembered also that a mysterious note had been handed to him at
the conclusion of his speech,--evidently a challenge from the State
Attorney. It was quite plain that the Colonel--a practiced duelist--was
hastening home to answer it.

But herein they were wrong. The note was in a female hand, and simply
requested the Colonel to accord an interview with the writer at the
Colonel's office as soon as he left the court. But it was an engagement
that the Colonel--as devoted to the fair sex as he was to the
"code"--was no less prompt in accepting. He flicked away the dust from
his spotless white trousers and varnished boots with his handkerchief,
and settled his black cravat under his Byron collar as he neared his
office. He was surprised, however, on opening the door of his private
office, to find his visitor already there; he was still more startled to
find her somewhat past middle age and plainly attired. But the Colonel
was brought up in a school of Southern politeness, already antique in
the republic, and his bow of courtesy belonged to the epoch of his
shirt frill and strapped trousers. No one could have detected his
disappointment in his manner, albeit his sentences were short
and incomplete. But the Colonel's colloquial speech was apt to be
fragmentary incoherencies of his larger oratorical uttera