"I might have sent that bundle straight to the owner of it. But, when I have anything against a man, I always forgive him, only I get even with him first." "What are you hammering at?" cried Peter, bringing his fist down on the table. "Hit the nail on the head." "Now I've got no grudge against her," continued O'Bannon. "I'd hate her if I could. I've tried hard enough, but I can't. She may treat me as she pleases: it's all the same to me as soon as she smiles. But as for this redheaded Scotch-Irishman--" "Stop!" said Peter. "Not a word against him!" O'Bannon stared. "He's no friend of yours," said he, reflectively. "He is!" "Oh, is he? Well, only the other day I heard him say that he thought a good deal more of your shoes than he did of you," cried O'Bannon, laughing sarcastically. Peter made no reply, but his neck seemed to swell and his face to be getting purple. "And he's a friend of yours? I can't even play a little joke on him." "Play your joke on him!" exclaimed Peter, "and when my time comes, I'll play mine." "When he sent the bundle here yesterday morning I could have returned it straight to her. I locked it in that closet! 'You'll never go to the ball with her,' I said, 'if I have to keep her away.' I set my trap. To-day I hunted up Joseph Holden. 'Come by the office, as you are on your way to the party to-night,' I said. 'I want to talk to you about a piece of land. Come early; then we can go together.' When he came--just before you did--I said, 'Look here, did you know that Amy wouldn't be at the ball? She lost her clothes as she was coming to town the other day, and somebody has just sent them here to be advertised. I think I'd better take them around to her yet: it's not too late.' 'I'll take them! I'll go with her myself!' he cried,jumping up. "So she'll be there, he'll be there, I'll be there, we'll all be there--but your John can hear about it in the morning." And O'Bannon arose slowly, but unexpectedly sat down again. "You think I won't be there," he said threateningly to Peter. "You think I'm drunk. I'll show you! I'll show you that I can walk--that I can dance--dance by myself --do it all--by myself--furnish the music and do the dancing." He began whistling "Sir Roger de Coverley," and stood up, but sank down again and reached for the bottle. "Peter," he said with a soft smile, looking down at his gorgeous swan's-down waistcoat and his well-shaped dove-coloured legs: "ain't I a beauty?" "Yes, you are a beauty!" said Peter. Suddenly lifting one of his bare feet, he shot O'Bannon as by the action of a catapult against the printing-press. He lay there all night. IV