"But this morning----"
"Pshaw! He's likely home and dry by this time--all foolishness; don't be
an old woman." The two men reentered the room and found Helen clinging to
Minnie's hand on the sofa. She looked up at them quickly.
"Do you think--do you--what do you--" Her voice shook so that she could
not go on.
The judge pinched her cheek and patted it. "I think he's home and dry, but
I think he got wet first; that's what I think. Never you fear, he's a good
hand at taking care of himself. Sit down, Lige. You can't go for a while."
Nor could he. It was long before he could venture out; the storm raged and
roared without abatement; it was Carlow's worst since 'Fifty-one, the old
gentleman said. They heard the great limbs crack and break outside, while
the thunder boomed and the wind ripped at the eaves till it seemed the
roof must go. Meanwhile the judge, after some apology, lit his pipe and
told long stories of the storms of early days and of odd freaks of the
wind. He talked on calmly, the picture of repose, and blew rings above his
head, but Helen saw that one of his big slippers beat an unceasing little
tattoo on the carpet. She sat with fixed eyes, in silence, holding
Minnie's hand tightly; and her face was colorless, and grew whiter as the
slow hours dragged by.
Every moment Mr. Willetts became more restless, though assuring the ladies
he had no anxiety regarding Mr. Harkless; it was only his own dereliction
of duty that he regretted; the boys would have the laugh on him, he said.
But he visibly chafed more and more under the judge's stories; and
constantly rose to peer out of the window into the wrack and turmoil, or
uneasily shifted in his chair. Once or twice he struck his hands together
with muttered ejaculations. At last there was a lull in the fury without,
and, as soon as it was perceptible, he declared his intention of making
his way into town; he had ought to have went before, he declared,
apprehensively; and then, with immediate amendment, of course he would
find the editor at work in the "Herald" office; there wasn't the slightest
doubt of that; he agreed with the judge, but he better see about it. He
would return early in the morning to bid Miss Sherwood good-by; hoped
she'd come back, some day; hoped it wasn't her last visit to Plattville.
They gave him an umbrella and he plunged out into the night, and as they
stood watching him for a moment from the door, the old man calling after
him cheery good-nights and laughing messages to Harkless, they could hear
his feet slosh into the puddles and see him fight with his umbrella when
he got out into the road.