The sun was almost setting as Farnham walked through the public square on his way home.  He could hardly believe so sudden a change could have fallen upon the busy scene of a few hours before.  The square was almost deserted.  Its holiday appearance was gone.  A few men occupied the benches.  One or two groups stood beneath the trees and conversed in under-tones.  The orators had sought their hiding-places, unnecessarily—­too fearful of the vengeance which never, in this happy country, attends the exercise of unbridled “slack jaw.”  As Arthur walked over the asphalt pavement there was nothing to remind him of the great crowds of the last few days but the shells of the pea-nuts crunching under his feet.  It seems as if the American workman can never properly invoke the spirit of liberty without a pocketful of this democratic nut.

As he drew near his house, Farnham caught a glimpse of light drapery upon Mrs. Belding’s piazza, and went over to relieve her from anxiety by telling her the news of the day.  When he had got half way across the lawn, he saw Alice rise from beside her mother as if to go.  Mrs. Belding signed for her to resume her seat.  Farnham felt a slight sensation of anger.  “It is unworthy of her,” he thought, “to avoid me in that manner.  I must let her see she is in no danger from me.”

He gave his hand cordially to Mrs. Belding and bowed to Alice without a word.  He then briefly recounted the news to the elder lady, and assured her that there was no probability of any farther disturbance of the peace.

“But we shall have our policemen here all the same to-night, so that you may sleep with a double sense of security.”

“I am sure you are very good,” she said.  “I don’t know what we should have done without you last night, and Mr. Temple.  When it comes to ear-rings, there’s no telling what they wouldn’t have done.”

“Two of your guests are in jail, with good prospects of their remaining there.  The others, I learn, were thieves from out of town; I doubt if we shall capture them.”

“For goodness’ sake, let them run.  I never want to see them again.  That ugly creature who went up with Alice for the money—­you caught him?  I am so glad.  The impudence of the creature! going upstairs with my daughter, as if she was not to be trusted.  Well,” she added candidly, “she wasn’t that time, but it was none of his business.”

Here Alice and Farnham both laughed out, and the sound of the other’s voice was very pleasant to each of them, though they did not look toward each other.

“I am beginning to think that the world is growing too wicked for single women,” Mrs. Belding continued, philosophically.  “Men can take care of themselves in so many ways.  They can use a club as you do——­”

“Daily and habitually,” assented Arthur.

“Or they can make a speech about Ireland and the old flag, as Mr. Belding used to; or they can swear like Mr. Temple.  By the way, Alice, you were not here when Mr. Temple swore so at those thieves.  I was scandalized, but I had to admit it was very appropriate.”