They all started early in the morning.  Carroll accompanied them to the station, and was well aware of an unusual number of persons being present to see the train start.  He knew the reason:  a rumor had gotten about that he as well as his family was to leave Banbridge and the State.  He knew that if he had made a motion to get on the train, there might have been a scene, and he bade his family good-bye on the platform, before his covert audience of creditors.  Lee was there, ostentatiously shaking hands with the ladies, but secretly watchful.  Tappan was surlily attentive, leaving his milk-wagon tied in front of the station.  Minna Eddy and Willy had driven down in their wagon from their little farm.  Four children were huddled in behind.  Minna had gotten out and stood on the platform.  Willy sat on the seat holding the baby and the reins.  There had been a thaw; the roads outside were heavy, and their old mule was harnessed up with their old horse.  Willy had been somewhat afraid to come.

“Suppose he should make a fuss about that,” he said, pointing to the Bokhara rug which adorned their little sitting-room.

“I ain’t afraid of his making any fuss about that old mat,” said Minna; “I guess he knows what he’s about.  It’s him that’s afraid, an’ not me.  An old mat that’s worth about fifty cents!  It ain’t half so pretty as one that Frank Olsen’s wife got in New Sanderson for four dollars and ninety-eight cents.  I’m goin’ to have some more of them things, an’ he ain’t goin’ to git out of Banbridge, if I have to hang on to his coat-tails.  You lemme go, Willy Eddy.”

Therefore they came, starting before daylight in the frosty morning.  Carroll was conscious of them all, of the druggist and the postmaster; of the two horsemen with whom he had had a half-settlement, and who were now about to force the remainder; of the two butchers and the dry-goods merchant, who had been exceedingly nasty about the rug, and persisted in thinking that the Carrolls were responsible for its disappearance.  They had now other chattels in view, and were only delayed from taking prompt measures by the uncertainty as to what belonged to Carroll, or to his wife, or to the owner of the house.  There was also lurking around the corner of the station, but quite ready for immediate action should it be necessary, another man, who represented the arm of the local law.  There was also Madame Estelle Griggs, and, curiously enough, the sight of that little, meagre-bedecked figure and that small, rasped, piteous face of nervous suspicion affected Carroll more forcibly than did any of the others.  He was conscious of a sensation of actual fear as he caught sight of the waving plume, of the wiry frizzes, of the sharp, frost-reddened face, of those watchful, unhappy eyes.  He realized that if she should make a scene there, if he should hear again that laugh and those wailing sobs, he could not answer for what he might do.  There even flashed across his mind a mental picture of the on-rush of