Later, Friday afternoon.--I have been interrupted again. Gadsden entered, removed his hat, and shouted: “Sharon. Twenty minutes for dinner.” I was calling the porter to order a buffet lunch in the car when there tramped in upon us three large men of such appearance that a flash of thankfulness went through me at having so little ready-money and only a silver watch. Mrs. Brewton looked at them and said, “Well, gentlemen?” and they took off their embroidered Mexican hats. “We've got a baby show here,” said one of them, slowly, looking at me, “and we'd be kind of obliged if you'd hold the box.” “There's lunch put up in a basket for you to take along,” said the next, “and a bottle of wine--champagne. So losing your dinner won't lose you nothing.” “We're looking for somebody raised East and without local prejudice,” said the third. “So we come to the Pullman.” I now saw that so far from purposing to rob us they were in a great and honest distress of mind. “But I am no judge of a baby,” said I; “not being mar--” “You don't have to be,” broke in the first, more slowly and earnestly. “It's a fair and secret ballot we're striving for. The votes is wrote out and ready, and all we're shy of is a stranger without family ties or business interests to hold the box and do the counting.” His deep tones ceased, and he wiped heavy drops from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “We'd be kind of awful obliged to you,” he urged. “The town would be liable to make it two bottles,” said the second. The third brought his fist down on the back of a seat and said, “I'll make it that now.” “But, gentlemen,” said I, “five, six, and seven years ago I was not a stranger in Sharon. If my friend Dean Drake was still here--” “But he ain't. Now you might as well help folks, and eat later. This town will trust you. And if you quit us--” Once more he wiped the heavy drops away, while in a voice full of appeal his friend finished his thought: “If we lose you, we'll likely have to wait till this train comes in to-morrow for a man satisfactory to this town. And the show is costing us a heap.” A light hand tapped my arm, and here was Mrs. Brewton saying: “For shame! Show your enterprise.” “I'll hold this yere train,” shouted Gadsden, “if necessary.” Mrs. Brewton rose alertly, and they all hurried me out. “My slippers will stay right on when I'm down the steps,” said Mrs. Brewton, and Gadsden helped her descend into the blazing dust and sun of Sharon. “Gracious!” said she, “what a place! But I make it a point to see everything as I go.” Nothing had changed. There, as of old, lay the flat litter of the town--sheds, stores, and dwellings, a shapeless congregation in the desert, gaping wide everywhere to the glassy, quivering immensity; and there, above the roofs, turned the slatted wind-wheels. But close to the tracks, opposite the hotel, was an edifice, a sort of tent of bunting, from which brass music issued, while about a hundred pink and blue sun-bonnets moved and mixed near