"Yes. You'll have a good chance."

"I will?"

"He's coming to supper with us. He and your father, of course, and Keating
and Bence and Boswell and Smith and Tom Martin and Lige. We're going to
have a big time, with you and Minnie to do the honors; and we're all
coming into town afterwards for the fireworks; I'll let him drive you in
the phaeton. You'll have plenty of time to talk it over with him and tell
him all about it."

Helen gave a little gasp. "Never!" she cried. "Never!"

The buckboard stopped on the "Herald" corner, and here, and along Main
Street, the line of vehicles which had followed it from the station took
their places. The Square was almost a solid mass of bunting, and the north
entrance of the court-house had been decorated with streamers and flags,
so as to make it a sort of stand. Hither the crowd was already streaming,
and hither the procession made its way. At intervals the cannon boomed,
and Schofields' Henry was winnowing the air with his bell; nobody had a
better time that day than Schofields' Henry, except old Wilkerson, who was
with the procession.

In advance, came the boys, whooping and somersaulting, and behind them,
rode a band of mounted men, sitting their horses like cavalrymen, led by
the sheriff and his deputy and Jim Bardlock; then followed the Harkless
Club of Amo, led by Boswell, with the magnanimous Halloway himself
marching in the ranks; and at sight of this the people shouted like
madmen. But when Helen's eye fell upon his fat, rather unhappy face, she