And then some frolic god, en route from homicide by means of an unloaded pistol in Chicago for the demolishment of a likely ship off Palos, with the coöperancy of a defective pistonrod, stayed in his flight to bring Joe Parkinson to Lichfield.  
It was Roger Stapylton who told the colonel of this advent, as the very apex of jocularity.
 
"For you remember the Parkinsons, I suppose?"
 
"The ones that had a cabin near Matocton? Very deserving people, I believe."
 
"And their son, sir, wants to marry my daughter," said Mr. Stapylton,—"my daughter, who is shortly to be connected by marriage with the Musgraves of Matocton! I don't know what this world will come to next."
 
It was a treat to see him shake his head in deprecation of such anarchy.
 
Then Roger Stapylton said, more truculently: "Yes, sir! on account of a boy-and-girl affair five years ago, this half-strainer, this poor-white trash, has actually had the presumption, sir,—but I don't doubt that Pat has told you all about it?"
 
"Why, no," said Colonel Musgrave. "She did not mention it this afternoon. She was not feeling very well. A slight headache. I noticed she was not inclined to conversation."
 
It had just occurred to him, as mildly remar............