He shook out his pipe, and getting down from his high seat laid his hand on my knee.

“I thought so once, old fellow,” he whispered, and went off down the dock.

This was the nearest Farrar ever came to a confidence.

I have now to chronicle a curious friendship which had its beginning at this time.  The friendships of the other sex are quickly made, and sometimes as quickly dissolved.  This one interested me more than I care to own.  The next morning Judge Short, looking somewhat dejected after the overnight conference he had had with his wife, was innocently and somewhat ostentatiously engaged in tossing quoits with me in front of the inn, when Miss Thorn drove up in a basket cart.  She gave me a bow which proved that she bore no ill-will for that which I had said about her hero.  Then Miss Trevor appeared, and away they went together.  This was the commencement.  Soon the acquaintance became an intimacy, and their lives a series of visits to each other.  Although this new state of affairs did not seem to decrease the number of Miss Thorn’s ‘tete-a-tetes’ with the Celebrity, it put a stop to the canoe expeditions I had been in the habit of taking with Miss Trevor, which I thought just as well under the circumstances.  More than once Miss Thorn partook of the inn fare at our table, and when this happened I would make my escape before the coffee.  For such was the nature of my feelings regarding the Celebrity that I could not bring myself into cordial relations with one who professed to admire him.  I realize how ridiculous such a sentiment must appear, but it existed nevertheless, and most strongly.

I tried hard to throw Miss Thorn out of my thoughts, and very nearly succeeded.  I took to spending more and more of my time at the county-seat, where I remained for days at a stretch, inventing business when there was none.  And in the meanwhile I lost all respect for myself as a sensible man, and cursed the day the Celebrity came into the state.  It seemed strange that this acquaintance of my early days should have come back into my life, transformed, to make it more or less miserable.  The county-seat being several miles inland, and lying in the midst of hills, could get intolerably hot in September.  At last I was driven out in spite of myself, and I arrived at Asquith cross and dusty.  As Simpson was brushing me off, Miss Trevor came up the path looking cool and pretty in a summer gown, and her face expressed sympathy.  I have never denied that sympathy was a good thing.

“Oh, Mr. Crocker,” she cried, “I am so glad you are back again!  We have missed you dreadfully.  And you look tired, poor man, quite worn out.  It is a shame you have to go over to that hot place to work.”

I agreed with her.

“And I never have any one to take me canoeing any more.”

“Let’s go now,” I suggested, “before dinner.”