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When the editorial chamber had been made so Beat that it almost glowed though it could never be expected to shine as did Fisbee and Caleb Parker and Ross Schofield that morning the editor took her seat at the desk and looked over the few items the gentlemen had already compiled for her perusal. Mr.
"The population of this portion of our State, I take it." "Oh, it's all right," said the judge, leaning back to speak to Helen. "Keating and Smith and your father are to ride in the carriage with him. You needn't be afraid of any of them letting him know that H. Fisbee is a lady.
He made up his mind that he would think of the only other person who could absorb his attention, at least for a time; very soon he would stand face to face with the six feet of brawn and intelligence and manhood that was young Fisbee. "You are sure he is there?" he asked Tom Martin. "Yes," answered Martin, with no need to inquire whom the editor meant.
And that," he cried, between his teeth, "and that is the part of it in regard to young Mr. Fisbee!" "Oh, it's about H. Fisbee, is it?" "Yes, it's H. Fisbee." "Well, we might as well go up and see what the doctor thinks of you; there's no train." "I don't want to see a doctor again, ever as long as I live. I'm as well as anybody."
Hasn't he been here this afternoon?" "Yes; some 'the time. Come in and stayed durin' the leevy you was holdin', and saw the extra off all right." "When will he be back?" "Sence it's be'n a daily he gits here by eight, after supper, but don't stay very late; the new man and old Mr. Fisbee and Parker look after whatever comes in late, unless it's something special.
They had reached the station half an hour before train time, and consumed the interval in pacing the platform under the cotton umbrella, addressing each other only in monosyllables. Those in the waiting-room gossiped eagerly, and for the thousandth time, about the late events, and the tremendous news concerning Fisbee.
I talked the other way yesterday, what little I said it isn't any of our business but I don't think any too much of those people, somehow. She thinks she belongs with Fisbee, and I guess she's right. That young fellow must have got along with her pretty well, and I'm afraid when she gives up she'll be pretty bad over it; but I guess we all will.
It was a point of honor that many would have held finicky and inconsistent, but one which young Fisbee had comprehended was vital to Harkless. Harkless wanted to see young Fisbee as he longed to see only one other person in the world.
You don't suppose we'd go to work and bother to brisken things up fer that old gentleman, do you?" "I meant young Mr. Fisbee he is the other editor, isn't he?" "Oh!" said Ross, coughing. "Young Mr. Fisbee? Yes; we put 'em up fer him." "You did! Did he appreciate them?" "Well he seemed to kind of like 'em." "Where is he now? I came here to find him." "He's gone." "Gone?
Fisbee told Parker the story after his own queer fashion. "You see, Mr. Parker," he said, as they sat together in the dust and litter of the "Herald" office, on Sunday afternoon, "you see, I admit that my sister-in-law has always withheld her approbation from me, and possibly her disapproval is well founded I shall say probably.
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