Suddenly, something happened. The blue spectacles flew over my head, and I flew over the seat in front of me. Thank goodness! I was saved from that female! I picked myself up from out of the _debris_ of the wreck. I saw a green veil, and a lady looking around for her lost teeth, and having ascertained that no one was killed, I limped away and hid behind a stump. I stayed behind that stump three mortal hours. When the train went again on its winding way I was not one of the passengers. I walked, bruised and sore as I was, to the nearest village, and took the first train in the opposite direction. That evening, as father and mother were sitting down to their solitary but excellent tea, I walked in on 'em. "No more foreign trips for me," said I; "I will stick to Babbletown, and try and stand the consequences." About four days after this, father laid a letter on the counter before me--a large, long, yellow envelope, with a big red seal. "Read that," was his brief comment. I took it up, unfolded the foolscap, and read: "JOHN FLUTTER, SENIOR:--I have the honor to inform you that my client, Miss Alvira Slimmens, has instructed me to proceed against your son for breach of promise of marriage, laying her damages at twelve hundred dollars. As your son is not legally of age, we shall hold you responsible. A compromise, to avoid publicity of suit, is possible. Send us your check for $1,000 and you will hear no more of this matter. "Respectfully, "WILLIAM BLACK, Attorney-at-Law, "_Pennyville, N. Y._" "Oh, father!" I cried, "I swear to you this is not my fault!" Looking up in distress I saw that my parent was laughing. "I have heard of Alvira before," said he; "no, it is _not_ your fault, my poor boy. Let me see, Alvira was thirty twenty-one years ago when I was married to your ma. I used to be in Pennyville sometimes, in those days, and she was sweet on me, John, then. I'll answer this letter, and answer it to her, and not her lawyer. Don't you be uneasy, my son. I'll tend to her. But you had a narrow escape; I don't wonder you, with your bashfulness, fled homeward to your ma." "Then it wasn't my blunder this time, father?" "I exonerate you, my son!" For once a glow of happiness diffused itself over my much-tried spirits. I was so exalted that when a young lady came in for a bottle of bandoline I gave her Spaulding's prepared glue instead; and the next time I met that young lady she wore a bang--she had used the new-fangled bandoline, and the only way to get the stuff out of her hair was to cut it off. CHAPTER VIII. HE ENACTS THE PART OF GROOMSMAN.