"You'll remember it longer on that account," said Mr. Sanders. "Gabriel is lazy-minded, but he'll brighten up arter awhile. Speakin' of fust an' last, an' things of that kind," he went on, "I reckon this is the fust time I ever come betwixt you children. I hope no harm's done." "Well, sir," said Nan, addressing Gabriel with a pretty formality, "since you are kind enough to pay me a compliment, I'll be bold enough to ask you to take tea with me this evening; and I'll have no refusal." Gabriel found himself in an awkward predicament. He felt bound to discover what part the Union League was playing. He had read of its sinister influence in other parts of the South, and he judged that the hour of its organisation at Shady Dale was the aptest time for such a discovery. He couldn't tell Nan what his plans were--he had no idea that she had already guessed them--and he hardly knew what to say. He was thoroughly uncomfortable. He was silent so long that Mr. Sanders had an opportunity to ask Nan if she hadn't made a remark to Gabriel. "Yes; I asked him to tea," she replied in a low voice; "he has forgotten it by this time." But Nan well knew why Gabriel was silent; she was neither vexed nor surprised at his hesitation. Nevertheless, she must play her part. "Give him time, Nan; give him time," said Mr. Sanders, consolingly. "Gabriel comes of a stuttering family. They say it took his grandma e'en about seven year to tell Dick Lumsden she'd have him. I lay Gabriel is composin' in his mind a flowery piece sorter like, 'Here's my heart, an' here's my hand; ef you ax me to tea, I'm your'n to command.'" "I'm sorry I can't come, Nan, but I can't; and it's just my luck that you should invite me to-day," said Gabriel, finally. "You have another engagement?" asked Nan. "No, not an engagement," he replied. "Well, you are going to do something very unnecessary and improper," said Nan, with the air and tone of a mature woman. "You are sure to get into trouble. Why don't you ask your Mr. Bethune to take your place, or at least go with you?" "Why, you talk as if you knew what I am going to do," remarked Gabriel; "but you couldn't guess in a week." At this point Mr. Sanders tried to stop in order to deliver an address. "I bet you--I bet you a seven-pence ag'in a speckled hen that Nan knows precisely what you're up to."