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"Then how could she understand? The letter you read me about the linens was written two weeks ago or more."

"Is nothing going on in Lexington? They’re right on the river. They must know more than we do, even."

"Has your papa written anything to her?"

"Papa is very indulgent of Minna, far more than of me, if you must know the truth. It’s because she’s, well, plain. He feels sorry for her."

"Does he?"

"No one speaks of it, of course. But I guarantee you Minna is not planning to make do with all her old dresses."

"She is getting married."

"Yes, she is." She said this with decided sharpness, not at all the tone she had used about the subject before. I smiled and we were silent for a moment. Then she said, "I suppose Papa will bring all those men home tonight. It’s terrible for Delia to have to make such a large supper, but I feel better when they’re here, I must say. I always think, Go ahead, let them attack tonight, and they’ll see what they get!"

"What men?"

"Oh, let’s see. I guess Mr. Perkins and his nephew and Mr. Harris, of course, and Mr. Smith and Mr. Chesbrough. He has a brother, I think, but I don’t know if he’s coming. Possibly Mr. Long and a friend of his who lives over there whose wife died—what’s his name? oh, Mr. Oleander Jackson; isn’t that an amusing name? But he’s ever so sad and serious. Mrs. Harris says he’s looking for a new wife, and I surely hope he doesn’t look in my direction! Some others have recently come into the neighborhood and are drilling with Papa. I surely hope he brings a few of them home; I surely do."

"Have you ever heard of any men named Mr. Samson and Mr. Chaney, from Blue Springs?" To tell the truth, my heart was suddenly pounding, though whether my fright came from anticipating how she might answer or simply from pronouncing the names of these devils aloud, I couldn’t have said.

"No," said Helen, shaking out a particularly lovely pink silk gown and then inspecting some loose stitching at the waist. "I suppose Isabelle will have to look at this. It’s always been one of my favorites, and I’m happy to keep wearing it, but I went to a dance in it, and don’t you know, one of my partners stepped right on the skirt! Ugh! That’s just the sort of suitor that’s all around here. And then, of course, he was terribly sorry and went all red in the face. And his ears were nearly purple! That put me off even more than his clumsiness did, I swear!"

I had just about regained my composure when she said, "Oh, unless you mean Samson Perkins. His nephew is named Samson, too, though they call him Sam. And Chaney Smith is their friend. He’s rather a rough character, and Papa doesn’t really like him, but he’s never done anything to require Papa denying him the house. We’ve heard things— What’s the matter?"

By now I was lying back on the bed, as weak and faint as ever I’d felt in my life. The shock of knowing that Samson and Chaney were at hand, and had been in the house a few nights before, was more than I could stand. The fact is that ahead of time, you always think you are going to approach something gradually, with plenty of time and foresight to prepare yourself, but really everything is sudden, even those things you expect.

I saw that I might miss my chance if I didn’t improve upon the evening’s opportunity. To Helen, I said, "I think the heat must be affecting me. I didn’t nap at all this afternoon."

"Oh, you must, then. Now that you have that green gown to wear, you’ll be having supper with us, and it will be so lively! You certainly should rest beforehand. I had a lovely nap, and I feel so fresh! The heat isn’t bothering me at all!"

Thus dismissed, I went to my room and closed the door. After sitting on my bed for a minute, I leaned down and dragged my case out and opened it. There wasn’t much in it except the pistol, a tin of percussion caps, and some cartridges I had made weeks before and wrapped in a square of cloth. Here is what I did: I loaded the cartridges, six of them, into the cylinder. Then I loaded six percussion caps onto the cones. Then I laid the weapon on the