When the summer heats set in, Meredith, one evening, drove to Morton's house, and, arrayed in linen and grass-cloth, smoked his cigar under his friend's veranda with as much contentment as the thermometer at ninety would permit. The window at his side was that of the room which Morton used as his study, and the table was covered with books. "Colonel," said Meredith, "what a painstaking fellow you are! Ever since you left college--except when you were off on that journey, which was one of the most rational things you ever did in your life--you have been digging here among your books, as if you were some half-starved law student, with a prospect of matrimony." "I've done digging for the present. It's against my principles to work much in July and August." "What do you mean to do?" "Set out on a journey." "I suppose so. You are a lucky fellow." "Give yourself a vacation, and come with me." "No, I'm in for it for the next two months; but I will have my revenge before long." "Three days from your office will never ruin you or your family. Come with me to New Baden, if you can't do better." "I think I can manage that,--and I will." Accordingly, on Monday morning, they took the train thitherward. CHAPTER XI. The company is 'mixed,' (the phrase I quote is As much as saying, they're below your notice.)--_Byron_. On reaching New Baden, towards night, they learned that there was to be a dance that evening, in the hall. "The deuse!" ejaculated Meredith, as they entered; "have we come all this distance to find old faces again at New Baden? Look at that corner."