o listen, but the force of
the words of wisdom were lost upon him. The professor, however, was
pleased, and as Douglas rose to go he told him how delightful had been
their conversation, and that the several points which had been
troubling him were quite clear.

Douglas' heart was happy and his step light and elastic as he left the
house. He thought over what Nell had told him, and her confidence in
him gave him great joy. He valued this far more than the explanation
she had volunteered about her family affairs. She trusted him and
turned to him for sympathy. Little wonder, then, that his face glowed
and his eyes shone with rapture. It was all a new experience to him,
and life seemed very pleasant.

He was roused from this reverie by the sound of angry voices. He
stopped and listened intently. They were evidently men, quarrelling on
the road ahead of him, though he could not distinguish what they were
saying. The fact that they were talking so loudly made him feel that
they were not there with any evil designs. Nevertheless, he felt that
it was just as well to find out what was the trouble, and at the same
time remain out of sight.

Along the road ran a hedge of thick bushes, and, keeping well within
the dark fringe of these, Douglas slowly advanced. He could hear the
talking more plainly now, and ere long he was able to tell that the men
were under the influence of liquor. Their voices were maudlin, and
they were wrangling with one another in a somewhat petulant and
childish manner.

"I tell ye he is," he heard one say.

"He ain't," another retorted.

"Yes, he is, ye blame fool."

"He ain't."

"Shet up ye'r jawin'," a third ordered. "Ye'r both drunk. Sure he's
there. Wasn't he seen goin' into the house?"

"Well, I'll be darned if I'm goin' to wait any longer," the first
speaker whined. "I'm tired an' sleepy, an' want to go home. I wish to
G-- that Ben would do his own dirty work."

"Ye liked his whiskey well enough, didn't ye?" his companion asked.

"Oh, yes, that's all right, but there wasn't enough of it."

"Too much fer you, though. Why, it's gone to ye'r head, an' has made
yer tongue like a mill-clapper. Ye'd better shet ye'r mouth or the
guy'll hear ye an' take to his heels before we kin lay hands on him."

"I ain't talkin' any, am I? Watcher growlin' 'bout? I'm goin' home."

"No, ye ain't."

"Yes, I am."

A scuffle followed these words, and Douglas could dimly see the form