find out a great deal.  That old fox knows how to cover his tracks.  But the attorney-general did more than any one else could have done.  He hauled Burr to trial, almost single-handed, and against the greatest public clamor.  He leaves nothing undone in the pursuit of his duty.  I understand that he is to be here soon.  He thinks that something should be done to put down the lawlessness of this country as Andrew Jackson has subdued it in his territory.”

“But he must, of course, resign the office, if he intends going to Tippecanoe,” said William Pressley.

He was so intent upon this one point of interest to himself that he had scarcely heard what had been said.  He now turned with dignified impatience when his aunt broke in, speaking from the hearth.  Miss Penelope always spoke with a greater or less degree of suddenness and irrelevance.  She commonly said what she had to say at the instant that the thought occurred to her, regardless of what others might be talking or thinking about.  The tenor of nearly everything that she said was singularly gloomy.  Her mind was full of superstition of a homely, domestic kind.  She was a great believer in signs, and the signs with which she was most familiar were usually forewarnings of some great and mysterious public or private calamity.  Her voice was remarkably soft, low, and sweet, so that to hear these alarming threats and these appalling prophecies uttered in the tones of a cooing dove, was very singular indeed.

“’Pon my word!” she now exclaimed, facing the room, but still keeping close to the coffee-pot.  “How you all can expect anything but terrible troubles and awful misfortunes is more than I can understand.  The warning of that comet sent a-flying wild across the heavens is enough for me.”

No one noticed what she said—­which certainly seemed to require no notice; but it never made any difference to Miss Penelope whether her remarks were warmly or coolly received.  After stooping to turn the coffee-pot round on its trivet she faced the room again.

“Yes, the warning is plenty plain enough for me!” she cooed.  “And just look at the dreadful things that have happened already!  Just look at what came to pass between the time we first heard of that comet early in the summer, and the time we first saw it early in September.  Didn’t all the wasps and flies go blind and die sooner than common, right in the middle of the hottest weather?  Who ever heard of such a thing before?  And look at the fruit crop,—­the apple trees, the peach trees, all kind of fruit trees—­and the grape-vines a-bending and a-breaking clear down to the ground because they can’t bear the weight.”

“It is probable that the early dying of the wasps and flies may have had something to do with the fineness of the fruit,” said William Pressley, quite seriously, with formal politeness and a touch of impatience at the interruption.