on. Torrance
turned to thank him, but the man swept his hat off with a laugh.

"I wouldn't worry; it wasn't for you," he said. "It's a long while since
we've seen anything so pretty as Miss Torrance and the other one."

Flora Schuyler flushed a little, but Hetty turned to the speaker with a
sparkle in her eyes.

"Now," she said, "that was 'most worth a dollar, and if I didn't know what
kind of man you were, I'd give it you. But what about Clarkson's Lou?"

There was a laugh from the assembly, and the man appeared embarrassed.

"Well," he said slowly, "she went off with Jo."

Miss Torrance nodded sympathetically. "Still, if she knew no better than
that, I wouldn't worry. Jo had a cast in his eye."

The crowd laughed again, and Flora Schuyler glanced at her companion with
some astonishment as she asked, "Do you always talk to them that way?"

"Of course," said Hetty. "They're our boys--grown right here. Aren't they
splendid?"

Miss Schuyler once more appeared dubious, and made no answer; but she
noticed that the man now preceded them, and raised his hand when they came
up with the band, which had apparently halted to indulge in retort or
badinage with some of those who followed them.

"Hold on a few minutes, boys, and down with that flag," he said.

Then a tawdry banner was lowered suddenly between two poles, but not
before Miss Torrance had seen part of the blazoned legend. Its unvarnished
forcefulness brought a flush to her companion's cheek.

"Dad," she asked more gravely, "what is it all about?"

Torrance laughed a little. "That," he said, "is a tolerably big question.
It would take quite a long while to answer it."

They had a street to traverse, and Hetty saw that it was filled with
little knots of men, some of whom stared at her father, though as she
passed their hats came off. Miss Schuyler, on her part, noticed that most
of the stores were shut, and felt that she had left New York a long way
behind as she glanced at the bare wooden houses cracked by frost and sun,
rickety plank walks, whirling wisps of dust, and groups of men, splendid
in their lean, muscular symmetry and picturesque apparel. There was a
boldness in their carriage, and a grace that approached the statuesque in
every poise. Still, she started when they passed one wooden building where
blue-shirted figures with rifles stood motionless in the verandah.

"The jail," said Torrance, quietly. "The Sheriff has one or two rioters
safe ins