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We can let it go until he does, and then But doesn't it seem to you that it would be a good notion for the 'Herald' to have a woman's page 'For Feminine Readers, or, 'Of Interest to Women' once a week?" "A woman's page!" exclaimed Fisbee. "I could never have thought of that, could you, Mr. Parker?"
Judd Bennett had had the best stare at her, but, as he immediately fell into a dreamy and absent state, little satisfaction could be got from him, merely an exasperating statement that the stranger seemed to have a kind of new look to her. However, by means of Miss Mildy Upton, a domestic of the Briscoe household, the community was given something a little more definite. Fisbee.
It had been a strange and beautiful day to him, begun in anger, but the sun was not to go down upon his wrath; for his choleric intention had almost vanished on his homeward way, and the first words Smith had spoken had lifted the veil of young Fisbee's duplicity, had shown him with what fine intelligence and supreme delicacy and sympathy young Fisbee had worked for him, had understood him, and had made him.
We'll go up town with Judd Bennett in the omnibus, and you'll know how a rapid-fire machine gun sounds. I want to go straight to the 'Herald' office," he finished, with a suddenly darkening brow. "After all, there may be some explanation," Meredith suggested, with a little hesitancy. "H. Fisbee might turn out more honest than you think."
Bud went down the rickety outside stairs, and sat on the lowest step, whistling "Wait till the Clouds Roll by, Jenny"; Ross Schofield descended to set up the quatrain, and Fisbee and Parker were left to silence and troubled meditation. They were seated on opposite sides of Harkless's desk. Sheets of blank scratch-paper lay before them, and they relaxed not their knit brows.
"You look more chirrupy than you have for several days." "It's that beast, McCune; young Fisbee is rather queer about it, and I felt stirred up as I went along." But even before the sentence was finished the favor of age and utter weariness returned, and the dark lids closed over his eyes.
Harkless, I was looking for you." He had not seemed to be looking for anything beyond the boundaries of his own dreams, but he approached Harkless, tugging nervously at some papers in his pocket. "I have completed my notes for our Saturday edition. It was quite easy; there is much doing." "Thank you, Mr. Fisbee," said Harkless, as he took the manuscript.
From where they sat the journalistic silhouette was plainly visible, and both Fisbee and Miss Sherwood looked toward it often, the former with the wistful, apologetic fidelity one sees in the eyes of an old setter watching his master. When the lecture was over many of the audience pressed forward to shake the Hon. Mr. Halloway's hand.
"Peter ain't very bright, sometimes, it seems to me," he added, brokenly; "overlook Bodeffer and Fisbee and me and all of us old husks, and and " he gulped suddenly, then finished "and act the fool and take a boy that's the best we had. I wish the Almighty would take Peter off the gate; he ain't fit fer it." When the attorney reached the spot where the crowd was thickest, way was made for him.
They did agree, however, that Harkless's quiet was not unkind, whatever its cause, and that when it was broken it was usually broken to conspicuous effect. Perhaps it was because he wrote so much that he hated to talk. A bent figure came slowly down the street, and William hailed it cheerfully: "Evening, Mr. Fisbee." "A good evening, Mr. Todd," answered the old man, pausing. "Ah, Mr.
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