"It's allus that way in this world," reflected Mr. Shull, sadly. "Them that don't need it one solitary atom, they're eternally gettin' every mortal thing left to 'em. Why, that girl's so rich already she don't know what to do with her money. If I was her, I bet a cooky I wouldn't go pikin' off to the battle-field, doin' nursin' and tyin' on bandages, and fannin' men while they were gittin' their legs cut off. No, sirree; I'd let the Sanitary Commission scuffle along without me, I can tell you! A hoss and buggy and a fust-class two-dollar-a-day hotel, and goin' to the theatre jest when I took the notion—that'd be good enough for me." "I suppose the sign then 'ud be 'Shull & Parmalee,' wouldn't it?" queried the boy. "Well, now, I ain't so sure about that," said Mr. Shull, thoughtfully. "It might be that, bein' a woman, her name 'ud come first, out o' politeness. But then, of course, most prob'ly she'd want to sell out instid, and then I'd make the valuation, and she could give me time. Or she might want to stay in, only on the quiet, you know—what they call a silent partner." "Nobody 'd ever call her a silent partner," observed the boy. "She couldn't keep still if she tried." "I wouldn't care how much she talked," said Mr. Shull, "if she only put enough more money into the business. I didn't take much to her, somehow, along at fust, but the more I've seen of her the more I like the cut of her jib. She's got 'go' in her, that gal has; she jest figures out what she wants, and then she sails in and gits it. It don't matter who the man is, she jest takes and winds him round her little finger. Why, Marseny, here, he wasn't no more than so much putty in her hands. I lost all patience with him. You wouldn't catch me being run by a woman that way." "So far's I could see," suggested the other, "she seemed to git pretty much all she wanted out of you, too. You were dancin' round, helpin' her at the fair there, like a hen on a hot griddle." "It was all on his account," put in the partner, with emphasis. "Jest to please him; he seemed so much sot on her bein' humored in everything. I did feel kind o' foolish about it at the time—I never somehow believed much in doin' work for nothin'—but maybe it was all for the best. If what they say about his makin' a will is true, why it won't do me no harm to be on good terms with her—in case—in case——" Mr. Shull was standing at the window, and his idle gaze had been vaguely taking in the general prospect of the street below the while he spoke. At this moment he discovered that some one on the opposite sidewalk was making vehement gestures to attract his attention. He lifted the sash and put his head out to listen, but the message came across loud enough for even the boy inside to hear. "You'd better hurry round to the telegraph office!" this hoarse, anonymous voice cried. "Malvern Hill list is a-comin' in—and they say your pardner's been shot—shot bad, too!"