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Updated: June 13, 2025
Schwitter's eyes were fixed on the window, which looked back on the McKee yard. "That spiraea back there's not looking very good. If you'll save the cigar butts around here and put them in water, and spray it, you'll kill the lice." Tillie found speech at last. "I don't know why you come around bothering me," she said dully. "I've been getting along all right; now you come and upset everything."
Katie brought his coffee to his room, and he drank it standing. He was working out a theory about the boy. Beyond Schwitter's the highroad stretched, broad and inviting, across the State. Either he would have gone that way, his little car eating up the miles all that night, or K. would not formulate his fear of what might have happened, even to himself. As he went down the Street, he saw Mrs.
At the rear of the house she shook off his arm and preceded him around the building. She chose the end of the porch as the place in which to drop, and went down like a stone, falling back. There was a moderate excitement. The visitors at Schwitter's were too much engrossed with themselves to be much interested.
Twenty people had seen him at Schwitter's and would know him again. To save Joe, then, was K.'s first care. At first it seemed as if the boy had frustrated him. He had not been home all night. Christine, waylaying K. in the little hall, told him that. "Mrs. Drummond was here," she said. "She is almost frantic. She says Joe has not been home all night.
But, as they neared the house with its lanterns and tables, its whitewashed stones outlining the drive, its small upper window behind which Joe was waiting for night, his heart failed him, rather. He had a masculine dislike for meddling, and yet Mrs. McKee had suddenly seen the name in the wooden arch over the gate: "Schwitter's." "I'm not going in there, Mr. Le Moyne."
Max had rallied well, and things looked bright for him. His patient did not need him, but K. was anxious to find Joe; so he telephoned the gas office and got a day off. The sordid little tragedy was easy to reconstruct, except that, like Joe, K. did not believe in the innocence of the excursion to Schwitter's.
First I took Tillie away from her good position, and after that nothing went right. Then there were things coming on" he looked at K. anxiously "that meant more expense. I would be glad if you wouldn't say anything about it at Mrs. McKee's." "I'll not speak of it, of course." It was then, when K. asked for Tillie, that Mr. Schwitter's unhappiness became more apparent.
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