to follow the course of true love, which is about as rough-going a
thoroughfare as the many roads of life have to offer.




VI

THE MAN ON THE BOX


At eleven-thirty he locked up his book and took to his room the
mysterious bundle which he had purloined from the stables. It
contained the complete livery of a groom. The clothes fitted rather
snugly, especially across the shoulders. He stood before the pier-
glass, and a complacent (not to say roguish) smile flitted across his
face. The black half-boots, the white doeskin breeches, the brown
brass-buttoned frock, and the white hat with the brown cockade. ...
Well, my word for it, he was the handsomest jehu Washington ever
turned out. With a grin he touched his hat to the reflection in the
glass, and burst out laughing. His face was as smooth as a baby's,
for he had generously sacrificed his beard.

I can hear him saying to himself: "Lord, but this is a lark! I'll
have to take another Scotch to screw up the edge of my nerve. Won't
the boys laugh when they hear how I stirred the girls' frizzes! We'll
have a little party here when they all get home. It's a good joke."

Mr. Robert did not prove much of a prophet. Many days were to pass
ere he reentered his brother's house.