A great laugh from the rest of the company made me aware that the Judge
had consummated his tale of the "Sole Survivor."

"And so," he finished, "they all went off as mad as hops because it
hadn't been a massacre." Mr. and Mrs. Ogden--they were the New
Yorkers--gave this story much applause, and Dr. MacBride half a minute
later laid his "ha-ha," like a heavy stone, upon the gaiety.

"I'll never be able to stand seven sermons," said Miss Wood to me.

* * * * *

"Do you often have these visitations?" Ogden inquired of Judge Henry.
Our host was giving us whisky in his office, and Dr. MacBride, while we
smoked apart from the ladies, had repaired to his quarters in the
foreman's house previous to the service which he was shortly to hold.

The Judge laughed. "They come now and then through the year. I like the
bishop to come. And the men always like it. But I fear our friend will
scarcely please them so well."

"You don't mean they'll--"

"Oh, no. They'll keep quiet. The fact is, they have a good deal better
manners than he has, if he only knew it. They'll be able to bear him.
But as for any good he'll do--"

"I doubt if he knows a word of science," said I, musing about the
Doctor.