"
They left the shop, and on every street they travelled there were
groups of men gossiping. Some nodded, others turned away, as the
two passed. Dick Roberts met them at the door of the house where
Polly boarded.
"I wish to see Miss Vaughn," said Trove, coolly.
"She is ill," said Roberts.
"Could I not see her for a moment?" Trove inquired.
"No."
"Is she very sick?"
"Very."
Darrel came close to Roberts. He looked sternly at the young man.
"Boy," said he, with great dignity, his long forefinger raised,
"within a day ye shall be clothed with shame."
"They were strange words," Trove thought, as they walked away in
silence; and when they had come to the little shop it was growing
dusk.
"What have I done to bring this upon me and my friends?" said
Trove, sinking into a chair.
"It is what I have done," said Darrel; "an' now I take the mantle
o' thy shame. Rise, boy, an' hold up thy head."
The old man stood erect by the side of the young man.
"See, I am as tall an' broad as thou art."
He went to an old chest and got a cap and drew it down upon his
head, pushing his gray hair under it. Then he took from his pocket
a red bandanna handkerchief, figured with a cabin, tying it over
his face.
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