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"Why, what why, where you goin'?" he faltered in dismay. "To Equity," said Bartley, feeling in his coat pockets for his gloves, and drawing them on, without looking at Kinney, whose great hands were in a pan of dough. "Why why no, you aint!" he protested, with a revulsion of feeling that swept away all his resentment, and left him nothing but remorse for his inhospitality.
For six years the Tories were in office, but there was no Bill. The moment he was out, Sir Michael was full of the best intentions. But his attempt to get credit for other men's work was vain; for he counted without Mr. Bartley the gentleman whom North Islington sends to Parliament for the purpose of impeding all useful legislation. And that Bill also was delayed.
I feel similarly about the matter of my story perhaps you will understand why as you read it. When I had finished my apprenticeship, people seemed to like me, and some of our principal men advised me to stay at Bartley, my native village it was so near the city, they said, and would soon fill up with city people, who would want villas and cottages built.
For three days Bartley had tried to find where Cheyenne was staying, but without success, chiefly because Cheyenne kept close to his room during the daytime, watching the entrance to the Hole-in-the-Wall, waiting for Panhandle to step out into the daylight, when there would be folk on the street who could witness that Panhandle had drawn his gun first.
"A day or two " she began, and then stopped and added gravely, "I thought you said you were going to have several weeks' vacation." "Oh, don't tell me what I said!" cried Bartley. "That was before I undertook this extra work, or before I knew what a grind it was going to be. Equity is a good deal of a dose for me, any way.
Bartley flinched as Cheyenne whipped up his gun and fired. The coyote jack-knifed and lay still. Cheyenne punched the empty shell from his gun, slipped in a cartridge, and strode on. "Pretty fast work," remarked Bartley. "Huh! I just throwed down on him to see if I was gettin' slow." "It seems to me that if I could shoot like that, I wouldn't let any man back me down," said Bartley. "Mebby so.
"Got both hosses saddled, and lots of ca'tridges and Dorry ain't here yet! She promised to be here right after dinner." "Was Miss Dorry going with you?" Jimmy nodded. "You bet! She's goin' to take my old twenty-two. It's only a single-shot," added Jimmy scornfully. "But it's good enough for a girl." "Isn't it early to hunt rabbits?" queried Bartley. "Sure!
"Then you and I are made men," said Bartley. These were stout words; but they were not spoken firmly; on the contrary, Mr. Bartley's voice trembled, and his brow began to perspire visibly. His agitation communicated itself to Hope, and the latter said, in a low, impressive voice, "This is something very grave, Mr. Bartley. Sir, what is it?" Mr.
Marcia made no answer, but went downstairs to put what face she could upon the matter to Olive, whom she had left alone in the parlor, while she ran up with Bartley immediately upon his arrival to demand an explanation of him. In her wrathful haste she had forgotten to kiss him, and she now remembered that he had not looked at the baby, which she had all the time had in her arms.
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