"You did," said Britt Hanson, "an' by the time the boys got through passin' the baby to the next feller, there wan't any feller left but me. An' then the funniest thing happened that you ever seed. You know how Becky was gwine on, laughin' an' talkin'. Well, the last man hadn't hardly shet the door behind him, when Becky flopped down and put her head in mother's lap, and cried like a baby. I'm mighty glad I ain't married," Britt Hanson went on. "There ain't a man in the world that knows a woman's mind. Why, Becky was runnin' on and laughin' jest like a gal at picnic up to the minnit the last man slammed the door, and then, down she went and began to boohoo. Now, what do you think of that?" "I know one thing," remarked George Rivers--"the meaner a man is, the quicker he gits the pick of the flock. The biggest fool in the world allers gits the best or the purtiest gal." Then there was a pause, as if the men were listening. "Well," said Tom Alford, after awhile, "we ain't after the gals now. That Hotchkiss feller goes out to Mahlon's by fust one road and then the other. You know where Ike Varner lives; well, Ike's wife is a mighty good-lookin' yaller gal, an' when Hotchkiss knows that Ike ain't at home, he goes by that road. I got all that from a nigger that works for me. If Ike ain't at home, he goes in for a drink of water, an' then he tells the yaller gal how to convert Ike into bein' a radical--Ike, you know, don't flock with that crowd. That's what the gal tells my nigger. Well, I put a flea in Ike's ear t'other day, an' night before last, Ike comes to me to borry my pistol. You know that short, single-barrel shebang? Well, I loant it to him on the express understandin' that he wasn't to shoot any spring doves nor wild pea-fowls." The men laughed, and then sat or stood silent, each occupied with his own reflections, until Sam Hathaway returned. Whereupon, they moved on, one of them singing, in a surprisingly sweet tenor, the ballad of "Nelly Gray." It was now dark, and ordinarily, Gabriel would have gone to supper. But, instead of doing that, he went on toward town, and met Hotchkiss and Boring on the outskirts. They were engaged in a close discussion when Gabriel met them. It would have been a great deal better for him and his friends if he had passed on without a word; but Gabriel was Gabriel, and he was compelled to act according to Gabriel's nature. So, without hesitation, he walked up to the two men. "Is this Mr. Hotchkiss?" he inquired. "That is my name," replied Hotchkiss in his smoothest tone. "Are you going out to Butts's to-night?" "Now, that is a queer question," remarked Hotchkiss, after a pause--"a very queer question. What is your name?" "Tolliver--Gabriel Tolliver." "Gabriel Tolliver--h'm--yes. Well, Mr. Tolliver, why are you so desirous of knowing whether I go to Butts's to-night?"