"Well, when it comes to paintin' a purty 'oman," remarked Mr. Sanders, "it's powerful hard for to git in all the p'ints. A feller could paint our picturs in short order, Judge. A couple of kags of pink paint, a whitewash brush, an' two or three strokes, bold an' free, would do the business." The Judge's eye twinkled merrily, and Mrs. Claiborne laughingly exclaimed, "Why, you'd make quite an artist. You certainly have an eye for colour." Thereupon Judge Vardeman suggested to Mrs. Claiborne that she begin at the beginning, and place Mr. Sanders in possession of all the facts necessary to the successful carrying out of the plan she had in view. It was a plan, the Judge went on to say, that he did not wholly indorse, bordering, as it did, on frivolity, but as the lady was determined on it, he would not advise against it, as the results bade fair to be harmless. It must have been quite a story the lady had to tell Mr. Sanders, for the sun was nearly down when he came from the house; and it must have been somewhat amusing, too, for he came down the steps laughing heartily. When he reached the sidewalk, he paused, looked back at the closed door, shook his head, and threw up his hands, exclaiming to himself, "Bless Katy! I'm powerful glad I ain't got no 'oman on my trail. 'Specially one like her. Be jigged ef she don't shake this old town up!" He heard voices behind him, and turned to see Eugenia Claiborne and Paul Tomlin walking slowly along, engaged in a very engrossing conversation. Mr. Sanders looked at the couple long enough to make sure that he was not mistaken as to their identity, and then he went on his way. He had intended to go straight home, but, yielding to a sudden whim or impulse, he went to the tavern instead. This old tavern, at a certain hour of the day, was the resort of all the men, old and young, who desired to indulge in idle gossip, or hear the latest news that might be brought by some stray traveller, or commercial agent, or cotton-buyer from Malvern. For years, Mr. Woodruff, the proprietor--he had come from Vermont in the forties, as a school-teacher--complained that the hospitality of the citizens was enough to ruin any public-house that had no gold mine to draw upon. But, after the war, the tide, such as it was, turned in his favour, and by the early part of 1868, he was beginning to profit by what he called "a pretty good line of custom," and there were days in the busy season when he was hard put to it to accommodate his guests in the way he desired.