“Um!...” he said, in some confusion.  “Mandy says I hain’t never to do it when wimmin is around.  Dunno why....  Now they’s some p’ints I got to impress on you.”

“Yes, Mr. Baines,” said Yvette, who had reached a condition of respect and confidence in Scattergood—­as most people did upon meeting him face to face.

“Fust, Homer hain’t no sanitorium for weary wimmin.  When you kin come and say, meanin’ it from your heart, ‘I love Homer,’ then we’ll see.”

She nodded acquiescence.

“Second, it won’t never and noways be possible fer you and Homer to live here onless the folks takes to you.  You got to win yourself a welcome in Coldriver.”

“That means,” she said, dully, “that I’d better go.”

“Huh!...  Hain’t you got no backbone?  You do like you’re told.  You stay where you be.  ’Tain’t possible fer you to go back to Locker’s store, and that puts you out of a job, don’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Hard up?”

“I can live a few days—­but—­”

“Hain’t no buts.  You kin live as long as I say so.  You stay hitched to this here hitchin’ post, and I’ll ’tend to the money.  Jest don’t do nothin’ but be where you be—­and be makin’ up your mind if Homer’s the boy you kin love and cherish, or if he’s nothin’ but a sort of shady restin’ place....  G’-by.”

He got up abruptly and went out.  On the bridge he encountered three dark figures, which, upon inspection, resolved themselves into Old Man Bogle, Deacon Pettybone, and Elder Hooper.

“Scattergood,” said the elder, “somethin’s happened.”

“Somethin’ ’most allus does.”

“This here’s special and horrifyin’.”

“Havin’ to do with what?”

“That coffee gal, that baggage, that hussy!”

“Um!...  Sich as?”

“Recall that show Bogle was took to in Boston?”

“Where the wimmin wore tights—­that’s been on his mind ever since?  Calc’late I do.  Kind of a high spot in Bogle’s life.  Come nigh bein’ the makin’ of him.”

“He claims he recognizes this here gal as one of them dancin’ wimmin that stood in a row with less on to them than any woman ever ought to have with the lights turned on.”

“No!” exclaimed Scattergood.

“Yep!” said all three of them in chorus.

“Stood right in front, as I recall it, a-makin’ eyes and kickin’ up her heels that immodest you wouldn’t b’lieve.  Looked right at me, too.  I seen her.”

“Got your money’s wuth, then, didn’t ye?  Wa-al?”

“Suthin’s got to be done.”

“Sich as?”

“Riddin’ the town of her.”

“Go ahead and rid it, then....  G’-by.”

“But we want you sh’u’d help us.”

“G’-by,” said Scattergood again, as he moved off ponderously into the darkness.

The elder moved nearer Bogle and endeavored to peer into his face.  “Be you sure she’s the same one?” he asked, in a confidential whisper.