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At his friend McGolwey; now loose-lipped and wabbly, sitting in the rain on a pile of ties behind the railroad station, he yelled, "So long, Mac. Take care yourself, old hoss. Off on li'l trip." He stopped in front of the "prof's," tooted till the heads of the Joneses appeared at the window, waved and shouted, "G'-by, folks. Goin' outa town."
If they is somebody, why, you jest stand outside of the door a second, and they'll be gone. Then you come in. But don't come rompin' in if you hear voices. It's a mite of business, and 'twon't take but a second. Calc'late you kin manage that, eh?" "Yes," she said, shortly. "Promise?" "Yes." "G'-by, Sairy."
"Jest half a mile from Pettybone's house to the dam," he continued, with apparent irrelevance. "Level road." "And my geldin' kin travel that same road spryer 'n Green's hoss for a hunderd dollars," said Wade, eagerly. "Dunno," said Scattergood. "Hoss races is uncertain. G'-by, Wade. See you later."
Outside gabblin' hain't calc'lated to help matters none. G'-by, Will." The postmaster recognized his dismissal; he knew that the manner which had fallen upon Scattergood portended that something was on his mind and that he wanted to be alone and think, so he withdrew hastily and plodded across the dusty road to the office of which he was the executive head.
"Some day," said Siggins, in not willing admiration, "you're goin' to run the state." "Calc'late to," said Scattergood, and thereby rather took Mr. Siggins's breath. "Figger on makin' politics kind of a side issue to the hardware business. Find it mighty stimilatin'. Politics took in moderation, follerin' a meal of business, makes an all-fired tasty dessert.... G'-by, Siggins, g'-by."
Scattergood made no reply to this question. He merely waggled his head and said: "G'-by, Will. G'-by." Next morning Scattergood walked past the Lewis place. He passed it three times before he made up his mind whether to go in or not, but finally he turned through the gate and walked around to the kitchen door.
You can get me at Adolph's. Huh? No, Carrie can give the anesthetic, I guess. G'-by. Huh? No; tell me about that tomorrow too damn many people always listening in on this farmers' line." He turned to Carol. "Adolph Morgenroth, farmer ten miles southwest of town, got his arm crushed-fixing his cow-shed and a post caved in on him smashed him up pretty bad may have to amputate, Dave Dyer says.
That surrender was more prompt, and a second check was sent to the bank to be certified. "G'-by, gentlemen," said Scattergood, and Messrs. Crane and Keith took their departure in no dignified manner, but with rancor in their hearts, which there was no method of salving. "Let's take stock," said Scattergood. "Like to know jest how we come out." "Let's see.
"Been spendin' Saturday nights and Sundays out of town for a spell, hain't you? Seems like I hain't seen you around." "Been takin' the 'three-o'clock' down the line," said Ovid, complacently. "Girl?" said Scattergood one might have noticed that it was hopefully. "Naw.... Fellers. We go to the opery Saturday nights and kind of amuse ourselves Sundays." "Um!... G'-by, Ovid." "Good-by, Mr. Baines."
"But we want you sh'u'd help us." "G'-by," said Scattergood again, as he moved off ponderously into the darkness. The elder moved nearer Bogle and endeavored to peer into his face. "Be you sure she's the same one?" he asked, in a confidential whisper. "Wa-al they was about the same heft," said Bogle, "and if this hain't her, it ought to be.