"
"Then who _is_ with him?"
"The population of this portion of our State, I take it."
"Oh, it's all right," said the judge, leaning back to speak to Helen.
"Keating and Smith and your father are to ride in the carriage with him.
You needn't be afraid of any of them letting him know that H. Fisbee is a
lady. Everybody understands about that; of course they know it's to be
left to you to break it to him how well a girl has run his paper." The old
gentleman chuckled, and looked out of the corner of his eye at his
daughter, whose expression was inscrutable.
"I!" cried Helen. "_I_ tell him! No one must tell him. He need never know
it."
Briscoe reached back and patted her cheek. "How long do you suppose he
will be here in Plattville without it's leaking out?"
"But they kept guard over him for months and nobody told him."
"Ah," said Briscoe, "but this is different."
"No, no, no!" she exclaimed. "It _must_ be kept from him somehow!"
"He'll know it by to-morrow, so you'd better tell him this evening."
"This evening?"
"Yes. You'll have a good chance."
"I will?"
"He's coming to supper with us. He and your father, of course, and Keating
and Bence and Boswell and Smith and Tom Martin and Lige. We're going to
have a big time, with you and Minnie to do the honors; and we're all
coming into town afterwards for the fireworks; I'll let him drive you in
the phaeton.
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