himself; he was living two lives, one in the present, the other in the
past.

Westerfelt was suddenly reminded of where he was by the sound of some
one tuning a fiddle in the sitting-room. He put the letter into his
pocket, rose, and brushed his hair before the mirror. There was a
clatter of heavy boots in the entry opposite his door; four or five
young men had come out to wash their hands in the pans on the long
shelf; they were passing jokes, laughing loudly, and playfully striking
at one another. Two of them clinched arms and began to wrestle.
Westerfelt heard them panting and grunting as they swayed back and
forth, till the struggle was ended by one of them shoving the other
violently against the wall; Westerfelt opened the door. A stout,
muscular young giant was pinning a small man to the weather-boarding
and making a pretence at choking him.

"Lord, H'ram, stop!" gasped the victim; "yore sp'ilin' my necktie an'
collar."

"'Gin the rules to wear 'em," was the laughing reply. "Heer, Joe, you
sprinkle 'im while I hold 'im!"

This command was about to be obeyed, when Mrs. Bradley suddenly
appeared.

"Boys, boys, behave!" she cried, and as the wrestlers separated she
continued, apologetically, "I clean forgot thar wusn't a sign of a
towel on the roller; I wonder what you intended to wipe on; here, take
this one, an' hang it up when you're through." Then she turned to
Westerfelt's door and looked into his room.