"I don't see as Jonas HAS `turned out'--not in particular! If he's turned at all, lately, I reckon it's in his grave, and I'll bet he HAS if he had any way of hearin' how much she must of spent for clothes!""I believe," Squire Buckalew began, "that young folks' memories are short.""They're lucky!" interjected Eskew."The shorter your memory the less meanness you know.""I meant young folks don't remember as well as older people do," continued the Squire."I don't see what's so remarkable in her comin' back and walkin' up-street with Joe Louden.She used to go kitin' round with him all the time, before she left here.And yet everybody talks as if they never HEARD of sech a thing!""It seems to me," said Colonel Flitcroft, hesitatingly, "that she did right.I know it sounds kind of a queer thing to say, and I stirred up a good deal of opposition at home, yesterday evening, by sort of mentioning something of the kind.Nobody seemed to agree with me, except Norbert, and he didn't SAY much, but--"He was interrupted by an uncontrollable cackle which issued from the mouth of Mr.Arp.The Colonel turned upon him with a frown, inquiring the cause of his mirth.
"It put me in mind," Mr.Arp began promptly, "of something that happened last night.""What was it?"Eskew's mouth was open to tell, but he remembered, just in time, that the grandfather of Norbert was not the audience properly to be selected for this recital, choked a half-born word, coughed loudly, realizing that he must withhold the story of the felling of Martin Pike until the Colonel had taken his departure, and replied:
"Nothin' to speak of.Go on with your argument.""I've finished," said the Colonel."I only wanted to say that it seems to me a good action for a young lady like that to come back here and stick to her old friend and playmate.""STICK to him!" echoed Mr.Arp."She walked up Main Street with him yesterday.Do you call that stickin' to him? She's been away a good while; she's forgotten what Canaan IS.You wait till she sees for herself jest what his standing in this com--""I agree with Eskew for once," interrupted Peter Bradbury."I agree because--""Then you better wait," cried Eskew, allowing him to proceed no farther, "till you hear what you're agreein' to! I say: you take a young lady like that, pretty and rich and all cultured up, and it stands to reason that she won't--""No, it don't," exclaimed Buckalew, impatiently.
"Nothing of the sort! I tell you--"
Eskew rose to his feet and pounded the pavement with his stick."It stands to reason that she won't stick to a man no other decent woman will speak to, a feller that's been the mark for every stone throwed in the town, ever since he was a boy, an outcast with a reputation as black as a preacher's shoes on Sunday! I don't care if he's her oldest friend on EARTH, she won't stick to him! She walked with him yesterday, but you can mark my words: his goose is cooked!" The old man's voice rose, shrill and high."It ain't in human nature fer her to do it!
You hear what I say: you'll never see her with Joe Louden again in this livin' world, and she as good as told me so, herself, last night.You can take your oath she's quit him already! Don't--"Eskew paused abruptly, his eyes widening behind his spectacles; his jaw fell; his stick, raised to hammer the pavement, remained suspended in the air.A sudden color rushed over his face, and he dropped speechless in his chair.The others, after staring at him in momentary alarm, followed the direction of his gaze.
Just across Main Street, and in plain view, was the entrance to the stairway which led to Joe's office.
Ariel Tabor, all in cool gray, carrying a big bunch of white roses in her white-gloved hands, had just crossed the sidewalk from a carriage and was ascending the dark stairway.A moment later she came down again, empty-handed, got into the carriage, and drove away.
"She missed him," said Squire Buckalew."Isaw him go out half an hour ago.BUT," he added, and, exercising a self-restraint close upon the saintly, did not even glance toward the heap which was Mr.Arp, "I notice she left her flowers!"Ariel was not the only one who climbed the dingy stairs that day and read the pencilled script upon Joe's door: "Will not return until evening.J.
Louden." Many others came, all exceedingly unlike the first visitor: some were quick and watchful, dodging into the narrow entrance furtively; some smiled contemptuously as long as they were in view of the street, drooping wanly as they reached the stairs: some were brazen and amused; and some were thin and troubled.Not all of them read the message, for not all could read, but all looked curiously through the half-opened door at the many roses which lifted their heads delicately from a water-pitcher on Joe's desk to scent that dusty place with their cool breath.
Most of these clients, after a grunt of disappointment, turned and went away; though there were a few, either unable to read the message or so pressed by anxiety that they disregarded it, who entered the room and sat down to wait for the absentee.[There were plenty of chairs in the office now, bookcases also, and a big steel safe.]
But when evening came and the final gray of twilight had vanished from the window-panes, all had gone except one, a woman who sat patiently, her eyes upon the floor, and her hands folded in her lap, until the footsteps of the last of the others to depart had ceased to sound upon the pavement below.Then, with a wordless exclamation, she sprang to her feet, pulled the window-shade carefully down to the sill, and, when she had done that, struck a match on the heel of her shoe--a soiled white canvas shoe, not a small one--and applied the flame to a gas jet.The yellow light flared up; and she began to pace the room haggardly.
