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A STRANGE, SAD COMEDY

Farebrother, returning the gun. "Dat ar muskit o' yourn cert'ny does shoot good. I ain' never shoot wid nuttin' like her—an' ef dis nigger had er gun like dat, ketch him doin' no mo' wuk in bird time!"

Sir Archy forbore comment, but he concluded that American sport, like everything else American, was highly original and inexplicable.

The week passed quickly enough. Every day, when the weather was fine, they went out in the society of Tom Battercake. In the afternoon the lively horses were hitched up to some of the mediæval vehicles at Corbin Hall, and they took a drive through the rich, flat country, Letty being usually of the party. She was surprisingly well behaved, but Farebrother doubted if it was a genuine reform, and suspected truly enough that it was only one of Letty's protean disguises. When the week was out the Colonel would not hear of their departure, and Sir Archy promptly agreed to prolong his visit. Of course, when he decided to stay, Farebrother could not have been driven away with a stick. At the beginning of the second week Mr. Romaine, the Chessinghams and Miss Maywood arrived at