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Elliot and McGuire Ellis. "Put Ellis here in this window. I'll hold the fort yonder." He pointed across the space to the reference room in the opposite L. "Nine times out of ten a mob don't really " He stopped abruptly, his face stiffening with surprise, and some other emotion, which Hal for the moment failed to interpret. Following the direction of his glance, the two other men turned. Dr.
"Do you mind if I run over the situation briefly, as I understand it?" "Fire away!" The sheriff settled back; he had forgotten his rush of business. "As I understand it, you, Mr. McGuire, have the reputation of keeping your county clean of crime and scenes of violence." "Huh!" grunted the sheriff.
"You wouldn't need anything else." "Humph! I don't need anything else with Daniel Burton 'round." "What do you mean?" "Why, I mean that that man don't do nothin' but read war an' talk war every minute he's in the house. An' what with them wheatless days an' meatless days, he fairly EATS war. You heard my poem on them meatless, wheatless days, didn't you?" Mrs. McGuire shook her head listlessly.
The suspicion did not become a certainty, however, until two days later. Then he overheard Susan and Mrs. McGuire talking in the kitchen. He had slipped into the pantry to look for another of those cookies made for him, when he heard Mrs. McGuire burst into the kitchen and accost Susan agitatedly. And her first words were such that he could not bring himself to step out into view.
"If only he isn't involved in it," said Carter anxiously. "What could there be to involve him?" asked McGuire. "I don't know," said Carter slowly. "Somehow I feel as if the desertion of the schooner was in some formidable manner connected with that light." For perhaps fifteen minutes the glow continued. It seemed to be nearer at hand than on the former sighting; but it took no comprehensible form.
Look a-here, Mis' McGuire," flared Susan, turning with fierce suddenness, "wouldn't YOU be worse if you wasn't allowed to do as much as lift your own hand to your own head?" "Why, Susan, what do you mean? What are you talkin' about?" "I'm talkin' about Keith Burton an' Mis' Nettie Colebrook. I've GOT to talk about 'em to somebody. I'm that full I shall sunburst if I don't.
"Shucks, a great, strong, healthy boy like John McGuire! Of course, he'll come back," retorted Susan. "Besides, likely the war'll be all over with 'fore he gets there, anyhow. An' as for feelin' it in your bones, Mis' McGuire, that's a very facetious doctrine, an' ain't no more to be depended upon than my flour sieve for an umbrella. They're gay receivers every time bones are.
He had hardly disappeared when a heavy hand beat at the door. "That's McGuire," announced Pollard. "Let him in, Phil." So saying, he twitched his gun out of the holster, spun the cylinder, and dropped it back. "Don't try nothing till you see me put my hand into my beard, boys. He don't mean much so long as he's come alone." Marvin drew back the door.
There, Mis' Colebrook, here's your tray all ready." And Mrs. Colebrook, without knowing exactly how it happened, found herself out in the hall with the tray in her hands. "How's Keith?" It was Monday morning, and as usual Mrs. McGuire, seeing Susan in the clothes-yard, had come out, ostensibly to hang out her own clothes, in reality to visit with Susan while she was hanging out hers.
If Daniel Burton and his son Keith thought the thing was done, and it was going to be easy sailing thereafter, they found themselves greatly mistaken. John McGuire scarcely said five sentences about the war the next time they were together, though Daniel Burton had his pencil poised expectantly from the start.
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