"
A silence followed, in which Trove sat looking at the old man whose
words were like those of a prophet. "I have no longer any right to
seek my father," he thought. "And, though I meet him face to face,
I must let him go his way."
Suddenly there came a rap at the door, and when Darrel opened it,
they saw only a letter hanging to the latch. It contained these
words, but no signature:--
"There'll be a bonfire and some fun to-night at twelve, in the
middle of Cook's field. Messrs. Trove and Darrel are invited."
"Curious," said Darrel. "It has the look o' mischief."
"Oh, it's only the boys and a bit of skylarking," said Trove.
"Let's go and see what's up--it's near the time."
The streets were dark and silent as they left the shop. They went
up a street beyond the village limits and looked off in Cook's
field but saw no light there. While they stood looking a flame
rose and spread. Soon they could see figures in the light, and,
climbing the fence, they hastened across an open pasture. Coming
near they saw a score of men with masks upon their faces.
"Give him the tar and feathers," said a strange voice.
"Not if he will confess an' seek forgiveness," another answered.
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