wayside crept, one by one, to rest. They left the Colonel dreamily, murmurously happy in a chair at the end of the City Hotel bar.
Here he was discovered about six-thirty by Eustace Eubanks, who had incautiously thought to rebuke him.
"For shame, Colonel Potts!" began Eustace, seeking to fix the uncertain eyes with his finger of scorn. "For shame to have squandered all that money for rum. Don't you know, sir, that a hundred and sixty thousand men die yearly in our land from the effects of rum?"
"Hundred sixty thousand!" mused the Colonel, in polite amazement. "Well, well, figures can't lie! What of it?"
"You have dishonestly spent that money given to you in sacred trust."
This seemed to arouse Potts, and he surveyed Eubanks with more curiosity than delight. He arose, buttoned his coat, fixed his hat firmly upon his head, and took up his stick and bag. He put upon Eustace a glance of dignified urbanity, as he spoke.
"I don't know who you are, sir,—never saw you before in my life,—but I have done what every good citizen should do. I have spent my money at home. This is a cheap place, full of cheap men. What the town needs, sir, is capital—capital to develop its attributes and industries. It needs more men with the public spirit of J. Rodney, sir. I bid you good evening! Ah, this has been indeed a beautiful day!"
He walked out. Those who watched him until he
