Poor William Todd bent his fiery face over the table and suffered the
general snicker in helpless silence. Then there was quiet for a space,
broken only by the click of knives against the heavy china and the
indolent rustle of Cynthia's fly-brush.
"Town so still," observed the landlord, finally, with a complacent glance
at the dessert course of prunes to which his guests were helping
themselves from a central reservoir, "Town so still, hardly seems like
show-day's come round again. Yet there's be'n some shore signs lately:
when my shavers come honeyin' up with, 'Say, pa, ain't they no urrands I
can go for ye, pa? I like to run 'em for you, pa,'--'relse, 'Oh, pa, ain't
they no water I can haul, or nothin', pa?'--'relse, as little Rosina T.
says, this morning, 'Pa, I always pray fer you pa,' and pa this and pa
that-you can rely either Christmas or show-day's mighty close."
William Todd, taking occasion to prove himself recovered from confusion,
remarked casually that there was another token of the near approach of the
circus, as ole Wilkerson was drunk again.
"There's a man!" exclaimed Mr. Martin with enthusiasm. "There's the
feller for my money! He does his duty as a citizen more discriminatin'ly
on public occasions than any man I ever see. There's Wilkerson's
celebration when there's a funeral; look at the difference between it and
on Fourth of July. Why, sir, it's as melancholy as a hearse-plume, and
sympathy ain't the word for it when he looks at the remains, no sir;
preacher nor undertaker, either, ain't half as blue and respectful. Then
take his circus spree. He come into the store this afternoon, head up,
marchin' like a grenadier and shootin' his hand out before his face and
drawin' it back again, and hollering out, 'Ta, ta, ta-ra-ta, ta, ta-ta-
ra'--why, the dumbest man ever lived could see in a minute show's 'comin'
to-morrow and Wilkerson's playin' the trombone. Then he'd snort and goggle
like an elephant. Got the biggest sense of appropriateness of any man in
the county, Wilkerson has. Folks don't half appreciate him."
As each boarder finished his meal he raided the glass of wooden toothpicks
and went away with no standing on the order of his going; but Martin
waited for Harkless, who, not having attended to business so concisely as
the others, was the last to leave the table, and they stood for a moment
under the awning outside, lighting their cigars.
"Call on the judge, to-night?" asked Martin.
"No," said Harkless. "Why?"
"Didn't you see the lady with Minnie and the judge at the lecture?"
"I caught a glimpse of her. That's what Bowlder meant, then."
"I don't know what Bowlder meant, but I guess you better go out there,
young man. She might not stay here long."