ize it. I forgot that I failed
in this once before in my career, or rather I recalled this failure,
perhaps, and felt the great need of retrieving myself.

When, therefore, in my slow stroll towards the house I encountered
William in the shrubbery, I could not forbear accosting him with a
question or two.

"William," I remarked, gently rubbing the side of my nose with an
irresolute forefinger and looking at him from under my lids, "that was a
scurvy trick you played Deacon Spear yesterday."

He stood amazed, then burst into one of his loud laughs.

"You think so?" he cried. "Well, I don't. He only got what he deserved,
the hard, sanctimonious sneak!"

"Do you say that," I inquired, with some spirit, "because you dislike
the man, or because you really believe him to be worthy of hatred?"

William's amusement at this argued little for my hopes.

"_We_ are very much interested in the Deacon," he suggested, with a
leer; which insolence I allowed to pass unnoticed, because it best
suited my plan.

"You have not answered my question," I remarked, with a forced air of
anxiety.

"Oh, no," he cried, "so I haven't"; and he tried to look serious too.
"Well, well, to be just, I have nothing really against the man but his
mean ways. Still, if I were going to risk my life on a hazard as to who
is the evil spirit of this lane, I should say Spear and done with it, he
has such cursed small eyes."

"_I_ don't think his eyes are too small," I returned loftily. Then with
a sudden change of manner, I suggested anxiously: "And my opinion is
shared by your sisters. They evidently think very well of him."

"Oh!" he sneered; "girls are no judges. They don't know a good man when
they see him, and they don't know a bad. You mustn't go by what they
say."

I had it on the tip of my tongue to ask if he did not think Lucetta
sufficiently understood herself to be trusted in what she contemplated
doing that night. But this was neither in accordance with my plan, nor
did it seem quite loyal to Lucetta, who, so far as I knew, had not
communicated her intentions to this booby brother. I therefore changed
this question into a repetition of my first remark:

"Well, I still think the trick you played Deacon Spear yesterday a poor
one; and I advise you, as a gentleman, to go and ask his pardon."

This was such a preposterous proposition, he could not hold his peace.

"_I ask his pardon!_" he snorted. "Well, Saracen, did you ever hear the
li