made himself as small as he could in his chair.

"Don't regret a good impulse. Mr. Kenton," said a neighbor, a young
man named James McDonald--Harry had noticed that Scotch names seemed to
be as numerous as French in South Carolina--"the words that all of us
believe to be true leaped from your heart."

Harry did not speak again, unless he was addressed directly, but he
listened closely, while the others talked of the great crisis that was
so obviously approaching. His interest did not make him neglect the
dinner, as he was a strong and hearty youth. There were sweets for
which he did not care much, many vegetables, a great turkey, and venison
for which he did care, finishing with an ice and coffee that seemed to
him very black and bitter.

It was past eight o'clock when they rose and any lingering doubts that
Harry may have felt were swept away. He was heart and soul with the
South Carolinians. Those people in the far north seemed very cold and
hard to him. They could not possibly understand. One must be here
among the South Carolinians themselves to see and to know.

Harry went to his room, after a polite good-night to all the others.
He was not used to long and heavy dinners, and he felt the wish to rest
and take the measure of his situation. He threw back the green blinds
and opened the window a little. Once more the easy wind brought him
that odor of the far south, whether reality or fancy he could not say.
But he turned to another window and looked toward the north. Away from
the others and away from a subtle persuasiveness that had been in the
air, some of his doubts returned. It would not all be so easy. What
were they doing in the far states beyond the Ohio?