Tom said: "You are going?"
"Yes," he answered, "I am going."
"Then I will go with you."
"Thank you, Tom," said the other quietly.
Meredith ran into his own room, pressed an electric button, sprang out of
his pyjamas like Aphrodite from the white sea-foam, and began to dive into
his clothes with a panting rapidity astonishingly foreign to his desire.
Jim appeared in the doorway.
"The cart, Jim," shouted his master. "We want it like lightning. Tell the
cook to give Mr. Harkless his breakfast in a hurry. Set a cup of coffee on
the table by the front door for me. Run like the deuce! We've got to catch
a train.--That will be quicker than any cab," he explained to Harkless.
"We'll break the ordinance against fast driving, getting down there."
Ten minutes later the cart swept away from the house at a gait which
pained the respectable neighborhood. The big horse plunged through the
air, his ears laid flat toward his tail; the cart careened sickeningly;
the face of the servant clutching at the rail in the rear was smeared with
pallor as they pirouetted around curves on one wheel--to him it seemed
they skirted the corners and Death simultaneously--and the speed of their
going made a strong wind in their faces.
Harkless leaned forward.
"Can you make it a little faster, Tom?" he said.
They dashed up to the station amid the cries of people flying to the walls
for safety; the two gentlemen leaped from the cart, bore down upon the
ticket-office, stormed at the agent, and ran madly at the gates,
flourishing their passports. The official on duty eyed them wearily, and
barred the way.
"Been gone two minutes," he remarked, with a peaceable yawn.
Harkless stamped his foot on the cement flags; then he stood stock still,
gazing at the empty tracks; but Meredith turned to him, smiling.
"Won't it keep?" he asked.
"Yes, it will keep," John answered. "Part of it may have to keep till
election day, but some of it I will settle before night. And that," he
cried, between his teeth, "and that is the part of it in regard to young
Mr. Fisbee!"
"Oh, it's about H. Fisbee, is it?"
"Yes, it's H. Fisbee."
"Well, we might as well go up and see what the doctor thinks of you;
there's no train."
"I don't want to see a doctor again, ever--as long as I live. I'm as well
as anybody."