"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.




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