On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ’ ‘That’s right,’ agreed the militiaman, coming forward to stand before her. ‘Here we go again. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago.
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