his hair before the mirror. There was a
clatter of heavy boots in the entry opposite his door; four or five
young men had come out to wash their hands in the pans on the long
shelf; they were passing jokes, laughing loudly, and playfully striking
at one another. Two of them clinched arms and began to wrestle.
Westerfelt heard them panting and grunting as they swayed back and
forth, till the struggle was ended by one of them shoving the other
violently against the wall; Westerfelt opened the door. A stout,
muscular young giant was pinning a small man to the weather-boarding
and making a pretence at choking him.

"Lord, H'ram, stop!" gasped the victim; "yore sp'ilin' my necktie an'
collar."

"'Gin the rules to wear 'em," was the laughing reply. "Heer, Joe, you
sprinkle 'im while I hold 'im!"

This command was about to be obeyed, when Mrs. Bradley suddenly
appeared.

"Boys, boys, behave!" she cried, and as the wrestlers separated she
continued, apologetically, "I clean forgot thar wusn't a sign of a
towel on the roller; I wonder what you intended to wipe on; here, take
this one, an' hang it up when you're through." Then she turned to
Westerfelt's door and looked into his room.

"Are you ready, young man?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, coming out.

"Gentlemen," she said, "quit thar a minute! This is John Westerfelt,
my old friend. Mind you look atter yore intrusts. The boys over in
Fannin know how to please the gals. Ef you don't watch sharp he'll cut
you every one out."

The two men holding the towel between them gave him their moist hands,
and those at the basins nodded. Mrs. Bradley drew him into the
sitting-room. The buzz of conversation ceased as she introduced him.
They all rose, bowed, and sat down again, but no one spoke. He tried
to detain his hostess, but she would not stay.

"I've got to look atter the rest," she said. "You must talk to some o'
these folks. They didn't come here jest to look at you. Here, Jennie
Wynn, turn yore face round, an' give Frank a chance to talk to Lou."
She whisked off into another room, and Westerfelt found himself facing
a blushing maiden with a round face, dark hair and eyes.

"Excuse my back," she said over her shoulder to Frank Hansard.

"It _hain't_ as purty as yore face, ef you _have_ got on a new dress,"
he replied, laughing.

"Hush, Frank; hain't you got no manners?" She meant that he was
showing discourtesy by continuing to talk to her when she