“That suits _me_, Ed. I kind o’ want to see Lu Allen, myself!” Thereupon they set forth across the Square, taking a path that ran through the courthouse yard; but when they came out from behind the old, red brick building and obtained a fair view of the Garfield Block, they paused. She of the blue parasol was disappearing into the warm obscurity of Pawpaw Street; and beside her sauntered Mr. Lucius Brutus Allen, Attorney at Law, his stoutish figure and celebrated pongee coat as unmistakable from the rear as from anywhere. In the deep, congenial shade of the maple trees her parasol was unnecessary, and Lucius dangled it from his hand, or poked its ferule idly at bugs in shrubberies trembling against the picket fences that lined the way. At any distance it could be seen that his air was attentive and gallant—perhaps more than that, for there was even a tenderness expressed in the oblique position of his shoulders, which seemed to incline toward his companion. Mr. Rolfo Williams, to describe this mood of Lucius Allen’s, made free use of the word “sag.” Mr. Williams stood upon the corner with his wife, that amiable matron, and P. Borodino Thompson, all three staring unaffectedly. “That’s Lu Allen’s lady-walk,” said Rolfo, as E. J. Fuller and Mortimer joined them. “He always kind o’ sags when he goes out walkin’ with the girls. Sags toe-_ward_ ’em. I’ll say this much: I never see him sag deeper than what he is right now. Looks to me like he’s just about fixin’ to lean on her!” “Don’t you worry!” his wife said testily. “Lucy’d slap him in a minute! She always was that kind of a girl.” “‘Lucy!’” Mortimer echoed. “Lucy who?” “Lucy Cope.” “What on earth are you talkin’ about, Miz Williams? That ain’t Lucy Cope!” Mrs. Williams laughed. “Just why ain’t it?” she asked satirically. “I expect some o’ the men in this town better go get the eye-doctor to take a look at ’em! Especially”—she gave her husband a compassionate glance—“especially the fat, old ones! Mrs. Cal Burns come past my house ’while ago; says, ‘Miz Williams, I expect you better go on up-town look after your husband,’ she says. ‘I been huntin’ fer mine,’ she says, ‘but I couldn’t locate him, because he knows better than to let me to,’ she says, ‘after what P. Borodino Thompson’s just been tellin’ me about him! Lucy Cope Ricketts is back in town,’ she says, ‘and none the men reckanized her yet,’ she says, ‘and you better go on up to the Square and take a look for yourself how they’re behavin’! _I_ hear,’ she says, ‘_I_ hear hasn’t anybody been able to get waited on at any store-counter in town so far this morning, except Lucy herself.’”