"It ain't as pretty as your coon-skin," she said critically; "you'd
look lovely in that suit with your coon-skin cap--but hold on--don't
take it off--I want Bolum to see you."

She ran from the room and we heard her calling from the porch:
"Bo-lum--Bo-lum--Isaac Bo-oh-lum."

Isaac was at the store. It seemed to me that his wife should have
known that without much research. The little pile of sticks by the
kitchen-door showed that his day's work was done, for when he had split
the wood for the morrow it was the old man's custom to put aside all
worldly care and start on a tour of the village, which generally ended
on the bench at Henry Holmes's side.

It was almost dusk. Tim had come on a mission to Robert Weston. I had
sent word to him of the accident, that Weston's friends might know, and
the first thought of the injured man's partner was to hurry to Six
Stars, but my second despatch, announcing that our friend was well on
the road to recovery, led to the change in plans that brought Tim to
us. Mrs. Bolum did not succeed in alarming the village before he and I
were well up the road, past the school-house and climbing the hill to
Warden's.

Tim had a great deal to tell me in that short walk. I had much to tell
him, but I was silent and let him chatter on, giving but little
attention to what he said, for I was planning a great surprise. The
simplest thing would have been to tell him my secret then, but I had
pictured something more dramatic. I wanted Mary to witness his
dumfounding when he heard the news. I wanted her to be there when its