if in some unutterable debate with himself, and passed within, meanwhile murmuring: “ And they say the Colonel comes home to-morrow, too. I wonder why he comes at all? We could get along without him here—could have got along if he’d never been a-born!”

Second Movement

Ed Halstead was much respected in the village. He had come there, a stranger, years before, opened his little shop, and since then steadily plied his trade. He was no interfering man in the sense with which we speak of the village wiseacre or gossip. Active, resolute—a powerful, bearded fellow in body— having a clear, temperate eye—serious—in dress plain, flannel~ shined—never gossiping, but always a spectator and often a participator in the meetings and general concerns of the town.

Newstead was not a large place,but it was finely situated and much-desired. As it happened, Newstead proper was mainly the property of one man—Colonel Happerly—and Happerly was resident himself somewhat beyond the town limits, and was kept while there pretty well within doors. Happerly was a man of what the financial world calls large interests—was often away for quite long periods—but enjoyed local eminence. For a series of terms Happerly had represented the district in Congress, but now had given way to another man, who, while not personally less obnoxious, served pretty well as a club with which to knock Happerly down.

Halstead and Happerly had never met—had never seen each other; yet they were living within reasonable walking distance, were inveterate enemies, and this Congressional incident (or, rather, revolution) had been mainly instrumental