Though all but the sleeping man eyed me inquisitively, as I took my place among them, not one changed his position.  The rolling of eye-balls cost but little exertion; and with that effort they were contented.

“Hallo! who’s that?” one of these loungers suddenly exclaimed, as a man went swiftly by in a light sulky; and he started up, and gazed down the road, seeking to penetrate the cloud of dust which the fleet rider had swept up with hoofs and wheels.

“I didn’t see.”  The sleeping man aroused himself, rubbed his eyes, and gazed along the road.

“Who was it, Matthew?” The Irish bar-keeper now stood in the door.

“Willy Hammond,” was answered by Matthew.

“Indeed!  Is that his new three hundred dollar horse?”

“Yes.”

“My! but he’s a screamer!”

“Isn’t he!  Most as fast as his young master.”

“Hardly,” said one of the men, laughing.  “I don’t think anything in creation can beat Hammond.  He goes it with a perfect rush.”

“Doesn’t he!  Well; you may say what you please of him, he’s as good-hearted a fellow as ever walked; and generous to a fault.”

“His old dad will agree with you in the last remark,” said Matthew.

“No doubt of that, for he has to stand the bills,” was answered.

“Yes, whether he will or no, for I rather think Willy has, somehow or other, got the upper hand of him.”

“In what way?”

“It’s Hammond and Son, over at the mill and distillery.”

“I know; but what of that!”

“Willy was made the business man—­ostensibly—­in order, as the old man thought, to get him to feel the responsibility of the new position, and thus tame him down.”

“Tame him down!  Oh, dear!  It will take more than business to do that.  The curb was applied too late.”

“As the old gentleman has already discovered, I’m thinking, to his sorrow.”

“He never comes here any more; does he, Matthew?”

“Who?”

“Judge Hammond.”

“Oh, dear, no.  He and Slade had all sorts of a quarrel about a year ago, and he’s never darkened our doors since.”

“It was something about Willy and—.”  The speaker did not mention any name, but winked knowingly and tossed his head toward the entrance of the house, to indicate some member of Slade’s family.

“I believe so.”

“D’ye think Willy really likes her?”

Matthew shrugged his shoulders, but made no answer.

“She’s a nice girl,” was remarked in an under tone, “and good enough for Hammond’s son any day; though, if she were my daughter, I’d rather see her in Jericho than fond of his company.”

“He’ll have plenty of money to give her.  She can live like a queen.”

“For how long?”

“Hush!” came from the lips of Matthew.  “There she is now.”