as they came.  Other dogs got interested; indeed, all the dogs.  It was a spirited sight to see them come leaping fences, tearing around corners, swarming out of every bystreet and alley.  The noise they made was something beyond belief —­or praise.  They did not seem to be moved by malice but only by prejudice, the common human prejudice against lack of conformity.  If the twins turned their heads, they broke and fled in every direction, but stopped at a safe distance and faced about; and then formed and came on again as soon as the strangers showed them their back.  Negroes and farmers’ wives took to the woods when the buggy came upon them suddenly, and altogether the drive was pleasant and animated, and a refreshment all around.

[It was a long and lively drive.  Angelo was a Methodist, Luigi was a Free-thinker.  The judge was very proud of his Freethinkers’ Society, which was flourishing along in a most prosperous way and already had two members—­himself and the obscure and neglected Pudd’nhead Wilson.  It was to meet that evening, and he invited Luigi to join; a thing which Luigi was glad to do, partly because it would please himself, and partly because it would gravel Angelo.]

They had now arrived at the widow’s gate, and the excursion was ended.  The twins politely expressed their obligations for the pleasant outing which had been afforded them; to which the judge bowed his thanks, and then said he would now go and arrange for the Free-thinkers’ meeting, and would call for Count Luigi in the evening.

“For you also, dear sir,” he added hastily, turning to Angelo and bowing.  “In addressing myself particularly to your brother, I was not meaning to leave you out.  It was an unintentional rudeness, I assure you, and due wholly to accident—­accident and preoccupation.  I beg you to forgive me.”

His quick eye had seen the sensitive blood mount into Angelo’s face, betraying the wound that had been inflicted.  The sting of the slight had gone deep, but the apology was so prompt, and so evidently sincere, that the hurt was almost immediately healed, and a forgiving smile testified to the kindly judge that all was well again.

Concealed behind Angelo’s modest and unassuming exterior, and unsuspected by any but his intimates, was a lofty pride, a pride of almost abnormal proportions, indeed, and this rendered him ever the prey of slights; and although they were almost always imaginary ones, they hurt none the less on that account.  By ill fortune judge Driscoll had happened to touch his sorest point, i.e., his conviction that his brother’s presence was welcomer everywhere than his own; that he was often invited, out of mere courtesy, where only his brother was wanted, and that in a majority of cases he would not be included in an invitation if he could be left out without offense.  A sensitive nature like this is necessarily subject to moods; moods which traverse the whole gamut of feeling; moods