The Quimbey and Kittredge factions poured into the hall; what cared they for the disputed claims of Jenkins _versus_ Jones? The lovers of sensation cherished a hope that there might be a lawless effort to rescue the infant Kittredge from the custody to which he had been committed by the court. The Quimbeys watchfully kept about him in a close squad, his pink sun-bonnet, in which his head was eclipsed, visible among their brawny jeans shoulders, as his mother carried him in her arms. The sheriff looked smilingly after him from the court-house steps, then inhaled a long breath, and began to roar out to the icy air the name of a witness wanted within. Instead of a gate there was a flight of steps on each side of the fence, surmounted by a small platform. Evelina suddenly shrank back as she stood on the platform, for beside the fence Absalom was waiting. Timothy hastily vaulted over the fence, drew his “shooting-iron” from his boot-leg, and cocked it with a metallic click, sharp and peremptory in the keen wintry air. For a moment Absalom said not a word. He looked up at Evelina with as much reproach as bitterness in his dark eyes. They were bright with the anger that fired his blood; it was hot in his bronzed cheek; it quivered in his hands. The dry and cold atmosphere amplified the graces of his long curling yellow hair that she and his mother loved. His hat was pushed back from his face. He had not spoken to her since the day of his ill-starred confidence, but he would not be denied now. “Ye'll repent it,” he said, threateningly. “I'll take special pains fur that.” She bestowed on him one defiant glance, and laughed--a bitter little laugh. “Ye air ekal ter it; ye have a special gift fur makin' folks repent they ever seen ye.” “The jedge jes gin him ter ye 'kase ye made him out sech a fibble little pusson,” he sneered. “But it's jes fur a time.” She held the baby closer. He busied himself in taking off his sun-bonnet and putting it on hind part before, gurgling with smothered laughter to find himself thus queerly masked, and he made futile efforts to play “peep-eye” with anybody jovially disposed in the crowd. But they were all gravely absorbed in the conjugal quarrel at which they were privileged to assist. “It's jes fur a time,” he reiterated. “Wait an' see!” she retorted, triumphantly. “I won't wait,” he declared, goaded; “I'll take him yit; an' when I do I'll clar out'n the State o' Tennessee--see ef I don't!” She turned white and trembled. “Ye dassent,” she cried out shrilly. “Ye'll be 'feared o' the law.” “Wait an' see!” He mockingly echoed her words, and turned in his old confident manner, and strode out of the crowd.