The Gentleman from Indiana - Page 45/212

Harkless seized his hand and shook it fervently, and then laughed

heartily, as he accepted the invitation.

At the gate, Miss Sherwood extended her hand to him and said politely, and

with some flavor of mockery: "Good-night, Mr. Harkless. I do not leave

to-morrow. I am very glad to have met you."

"We are going to keep her all summer if we can," said Minnie, weaving her

arm about her friend's waist. "You'll come in the morning?"

"Good-night, Miss Sherwood," he returned, hilariously. "It has been such a

pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for saving my life. It was very

good of you indeed. Yes, in the morning. Good-night--good-night." He shook

hands with them all again, including Mr. Todd, who was going with him.

He laughed most of the way home, and Mr. Todd walked at his side in

amazement. The Herald Building was a decrepit frame structure on Main

Street; it had once been a small warehouse and was now sadly in need of

paint. Closely adjoining it, in a large, blank-looking yard, stood a low

brick cottage, over which the second story of the warehouse leaned in an

effect of tipsy affection that had reminded Harkless, when he first saw

it, of an old Sunday-school book wood-cut of an inebriated parent under

convoy of a devoted child. The title to these two buildings and the blank

yard had been included in the purchase of the "Herald"; and the cottage

was Harkless's home.

There was a light burning upstairs in the "Herald" office. From the street

a broad, tumble-down stairway ran up on the outside of the building to the

second floor, and at the stairway railing John turned and shook his

companion warmly by the hand.

"Good-night, William," he said. "It was plucky of you to join in that

muss, to-night. I shan't forget it."

"I jest happened to come along," replied the other, drowsily; then, with a

portentous yawn, he asked: "Ain't ye goin' to bed?"

"No; Parker wouldn't allow it."

"Well," observed William, with another yawn, which bade fair to expose the

veritable soul of him, "I d'know how ye stand it. It's closte on eleven

o'clock. Good-night."

John went up the steps, singing aloud:

"For to-night we'll merry, merry be,

For to-night we'll merry, merry be,"

and stopped on the sagging platform at the top of the stairs and gave the

moon good-night with a wave of the hand and friendly laughter. At that it

suddenly struck him that he was twenty-nine years of age; that he had

laughed a great deal that evening; that he had laughed and laughed over

things not in the least humorous, like an excited schoolboy making his

first formal call; that he had shaken hands with Miss Briscoe when he left

her, as if he should never see her again; that he had taken Miss

Sherwood's hand twice in one very temporary parting; that he had shaken

the judge's hand five times, and William's four!