Smithton was not inhabited exclusively by people of energy and culture.  New settlements, like all other things new, powerfully attract incapables, and Smithton was no excuse to the rule.  In one portion of it, yclept “the End,” were gathered many characters more odd than interesting.  Their local habitations seemed to be the liquor-shops which fairly filled that portion of the town.  About the doors of these shops the “Enders” were most frequently seen.  If one of them chanced to stray into the business street of the town, he seemed as greatly confused and troubled as a lost boy.  In his own quarter, however, and among his own kind, the Ender displayed a composure which was simply superb.  No one could pass through the End by daylight without seeing many of the inhabitants thereof leaning against fences, trees, buildings, and such other objects as could sustain without assistance the weight of the human frame.  From these points of support the Enders would contemplate whatever was transpiring about them, with that immobility of countenance which characterizes the finished tourist and the North American Indian.  There were occasions when these self-possessed beings assumed erect positions and manifested ordinary human interest.  One of these was the breaking out of a fight between either men or animals; another was the passing of a lady of either handsome face or showy dress.  So it happened that, when pretty, well-dressed Mabel Fewne was enjoying a drive with one of her admirers, there was quite a stir among such Enders as chanced to see her.  The venders of the beverages for which the Enders spent most of their money noticed that, upon that particular afternoon, an unusual proportion of their customers stood at the bar with no assistance from the bar itself, that some spirit was manifest in their walk and conversation, and yet they were less than usual inclined to be quarrelsome.  So great was the excitement caused by Miss Fewne’s appearance, that one Ender was heard to ask another who she was—­an exhibition of curiosity very unusual in that part of the town.  Even more:  One member of that apparently hopeless gang was known to wash his face and hands, purchase a suit of cheap—­but new and clean—­clothing, and take an eastern-bound train, presumably to appear among respectable people he had known during some earlier period of his existence.

On the evening of the next day a delightful little party was enjoyed by the well-to-do inhabitants of Smithton.  New as was the town, the parlors of Mrs. General Wader (her husband was something for the railway company) were handsomely furnished, the ladies were elaborately dressed, the gentlemen lacked not one of the funereal garments which men elsewhere wear to evening parties, and stupid people were noticeably rarer than, in similar social gatherings, in older communities.  Mabel Fewne was there, and as human nature is the same at Smithton as in the East, she was the belle of the evening.  She entered the room on the arm of her brother-in-law, and that warrior’s height, breadth, bronzed countenance and severe uniform, made all the more striking the figure which, clad apparently in a pale blue cloud, edged with silver and crowned with gold, floated beside him.  Men crowded about her at once, and the other ladies present had almost undisturbed opportunity in which to converse with each other.