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"Here what come," he said. "I pick 'er up when he done stompin' on 'er. You read 'er, Mist' Bibbs you' ma tell me tuhn 'er ovuh to you soon's you come in." Bibbs read the telegram quickly. It was from New York and addressed to Mrs. Sheridan.
I'd seen one of his pictures at an exhibition, and I wanted to see more of them, so he showed them to me. He has almost everthing he ever painted; I don't suppose he's sold more than four or five pictures in his life. He gives drawing-lessons to keep alive." "How do you mean he paints the smoke?" Bibbs asked. "Literally. He paints from his studio window and from the street anywhere.
"You can talk, if you want to, and I'll listen," Sheridan returned, "but you can't show me that Jim ever took up with a bad thing. The roof fell because it hadn't had time to settle and on account of weather conditions. I want that building put just the way Jim planned it." "You can't have it," said Bibbs. "You can't, because Jim planned for the building to stand up, and it won't do it.
Gasping and sobbing in a passion of tears, she beat the coverlet and pillows with her clenched fists. "Sneak!" she babbled aloud. "Sneak! Snake-in-the-grass! Cat!" Bibbs saw that she did not know he was there, and he went softly toward the door, hoping to get away before she became aware of him; but some sound of his movement reached her, and she sat up, startled, facing him. "Bibbs!
"And I want to tell you I'm going in a 'cheerful spirit. As you said, I'll go and I'll 'like it'!" "That's YOUR lookout!" his father grunted. "They'll put you back on the clippin'-machine. You get nine dollars a week." "More than I'm worth, too," said Bibbs, cheerily. "That reminds me, I didn't mean YOU by 'Midas' in that nonsense I'd been writing. I meant "
The vegetables, indeed, engrossed so much of his care and attention, that three times in the course of his life, he had lost by carelessness a comfortable little independence which his brother had made for him. The company began to pour in. Mrs. Taylor and the talkative old friend were among the earliest, and took their seats on the sofa, near Miss Patsey, Mrs. Bibbs, and Mrs. Tibbs.
Sheridan descended a few minutes later and joined her husband in the library. Bibbs, still sitting in his gold chair, saw her pass, roused himself from reverie, and strolled in after her. "She locked her door," said Mrs. Sheridan, shaking her head woefully. "She wouldn't even answer me. They wasn't a sound from her room." "Well," said her husband, "she can settle her mind to it.
"But just once I'd like to have it out with you on the question of Bibbs and while he's here, too." He got up, walked to the fire, and stood warming his hands behind his back and smiling. "Look here, old fellow, let's be reasonable," he said. "You were bound Bibbs should go to the shop again, and I gave you and him, both, to understand pretty plainly that if he went it was at the risk of his life.
"Yes I'll try." "You better, if it's in you!" Sheridan was sheerly nonplussed. He had always been able to say whatever he wished to say, but his tongue seemed bewitched. He had come to tell Bibbs about Mary's letter, and to his own angry astonishment he found it impossible to do anything except to scold like a drudge-driver.
"Sleep-walking, as usual?" But Sibyl took the wanderer by the arm. "Come over to our house for a little while, Bibbs," she urged. "I want to " "No, I'd better " "Yes. I want you to. Your father's gone to bed, and they're all quiet over there all worn out. Just come for a minute."
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