The mob had disappeared, but a quarter or an eighth of a mile back, I saw coming, jauntily swinging a cane, a high white hat on the back of his head, the Prince Albert coat buttoned around his pompous form, Mr. Pygmalion Woodbur, attorney and counsellor at law. Close behind me still followed Sam Scott, dark and determined. We entered the little tumbledown depot, and The Man and I sat down on one of the hard benches, Sam Scott seated scowlingly between us. Bilkson and the fencerail thought best to remain outside. Mr. Woodbur entered and smilingly bid me “Good-morning,” stroked the high hat and hoped I was well. He said he heard that I was in trouble; that I had been indiscreet; and knowing my little lapses from the path of rectitude were merely sins of the head and not of the heart, he at once decided to befriend me, and had come out from the city to see that I received right treatment. There I sat, hatless and shoeless, but not friendless, for ever did I feel the serene composure of The Man, and spread out over his bony knee I saw the great brown hand of Sam Scott. The train was two hours late, and as we sat in the depot children came, curiously peering in the door to see the bad man and woman whom the officers from the city were obliged to arrest. Women came carrying babies in their arms, and rough-whiskered but kindly-hearted men stared at us, and carried on _sotto voce_ conversations which I could partially hear. “Now ain’t she a wicked-looking thing?” said a woman. “See her long hair clear to her waist--and how brazen!” said another. “Why, if it was me I would cry my eyes out for very shame, and there she sits pale like and not a bit scared.”--“Ah, you Sam Scott, where did you get the introduction?” Sam Scott sent back a look for an answer, and the questioner sneaked away. I shook with the cold morning air, for I brought no wrap. One woman, who carried a baby dressed only in its nightgown, stared at me, and I saw her hastily throw her apron over her head and go out, running against the door as she turned. Soon she came back. I noticed her eyes were very red. She brought me an old pieced bed-quilt, and told me to put it around me to keep me warm; to take it with me, and if I didn’t have a chance to send it back I needn’t; and abruptly as she came she rushed away. The train arrived and we entered the smoking-car, leaving Sam Scott on the platform. I looked at him and endeavored to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. He guessed what I wanted to say, and stammered, “Now, you, missis, keep still will you. I know, don’t I--how that blamed sun does hurt my eyes!” and he began gouging one eye with the knobby knuckles. Arriving in Buffalo, I saw drawn up in the depot yard a patrol-wagon, with three brass-buttoned officers seated therein. I knew they were waiting for us, and that Bilkson had telegraphed for them, possibly to deepen my humiliation. As we descended from the car, Bilkson called out in the direction of the officers,