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We were going down the street when Cockley struck an attitude and pointed to a sign over the way: "I told you I knew no one; I was joking. There's a friend's. Let's go over and see Bewell. He'll be glad to see us and give us the whole town. He was in New York this spring, and we had a good time together studying up art.
I followed him in with some fear of a joke being played on me, but his manner changed at the door, and we met Bewell as if we were all deacons. He gave Cockley a very warm reception, as if thoroughly glad to see him. I concluded I was in the way, so with a promise to call later, I betook myself to another house. I did not meet Cockley again for many months.
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