"Do you remember the day when Silas Candy ducked Ephraim Weight?" said Mr. Homer, disregarding the last remark. "We were sitting here, Pindar, and we did not interfere. I have sometimes reflected that it was a--an error, sir; a--a faltering in the way; a--a dereliction from the--a--star-y-pointing path; but we were young, sir, and Ephraim was--shall I say unattractive? But--Pindy, when Silas came along--I remember it as if it were yesterday--I had just been cutting some initials in the tree. Upon my word, they are here still!" With a trembling finger he pointed out some half-obliterated letters. "B. H., sir; do you see them? Bethia Hollopeter!" Mr. Pindar nodded gloomily, and, putting away the blue handkerchief, crossed his arms on his breast. "I see them, sir," he said. "Why turn the dagger in the wound? I see them!" "What was my thought, Brother," Mr. Homer went on, growing more and more animated, "when I made those letters; when I--a--wounded the oaken breast which--which--not precisely nourished, but certainly cheered and comforted me? Brother, I fancied Bethia as your bride. Stay! hear me!" as Mr. Pindar made a hasty gesture of dissent. "I knew later that--that your affections, like my own, were placed elsewhere; but--but Fate, sir, planted an arrow, of a highly barbed description, in our twin breasts. No more of that. Miss Bethia Wax, sir, has been the friend, the elegant and valued friend, of my entire life. Since the lamented death of our cousins, Phoebe and Vesta, and recently the irreparable loss I have sustained in the death of Cousin Marcia, we--Miss Bethia and I--have been brought into yet closer and more sympathetic companionship. Aside from the devoted tenderness of Thomas and William, and the--the faithful, if occasionally violent ministrations of Direxia Hawkes, Miss Bethia has been my chief stay and comfort in these troublous days. But I assure you, sir, with my hand on my heart,"--Mr. Homer suited the action to the word,--"that nothing of a tender nature has ever passed, or will ever pass, between me and my elegant and valued friend. Yet once more hear me, Brother! It is my firm belief, Pindar, that one image, and one only, has remained since youth implanted in--in that bosom, sir, to which I allude with the highest respect; that image, sir, I believe to be yours!" Mr. Homer paused, much moved. Mr. Pindar waved his cloak in protest, but his countenance brightened perceptibly. "Not so!" he murmured. "Not so! Thunder. Exit Homeless Wanderer, pursued by furies. Brother, I will return to my hated task. Enough! I thank you, but I go."