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Shrimplin's horrified gaze was able to trace another discoloration that crossed in a thin red line the dead man's white collar; for the man was dead past all peradventure. Mr. Shrimplin saw and grasped the meaning of it all in an instant. Then with a feeble cry he turned and fled down the long room, pursued by a million phantom terrors.
"Thank you, Judge, I ain't cold," rejoined Mr. Shrimplin in his best manner. The judge turned to the woman. She had once been a servant in his household, but had quitted his employ to marry Joe Montgomery, and to become by that same act Mr. Shrimplin's sister-in-law.
Well, he could see more and see further with that one eye than most men could with four!" "I should think four eyes would be confusin'," said Mrs. Shrimplin. Mr. Shrimplin folded his arms across his narrow chest and permitted his glance to follow Mrs. Shrimplin's ample figure as she moved to and fro about the room; and when he spoke again a gentle melancholy had crept into his tone.
But quickly rallying to the need for immediate action she swallowed her pride and sent Arthur in quest of his uncle, who was well fitted by sobriety, industry and thrift, to cope with such a crisis. Mr. Shrimplin's only weaknesses were such as spring from an eager childlike vanity, and a nature as shy as a fawn's of whatever held even a suggestion of danger.
Close on Shrimplin's heels came a jaded unkempt woman in a black dress, worn and mended. On seeing her the judge's cold scrutiny somewhat relaxed. "So it's you, Nellie?" he said, and motioned her to a chair opposite his own. Not knowing exactly what was expected of him, Mr. Shrimplin remained standing in the middle of the room, hat in hand.
"Well, good-by, son," said Mr. Shrimplin, slapping Bill with the lines. Bill went out of the alley back of Mr. Shrimplin's small barn, his head held high, and taking tremendous strides that somehow failed in their purpose if speed was the result desired.
He concluded by reiterating his opinion that her sister had seen the last of Joe. "I don't know why you say that!" was Mrs. Shrimplin's unexpected rejoinder. "Ain't I got mighty good reason to say it?" asked her husband. "Don't you know, and ain't every one always said Joe was just too low to live? I'd like to know if it wasn't you said he should never set his foot inside your door?"
"Well, what is it, Custer?" he asked, with all that bland indulgence of manner which was habitual to him in his intercourse with his son. "Didn't you hear, it sounded like a cry!" said Custer, in an excited whisper. And instantly a shiver traversed the region of Mr. Shrimplin's spine. "I guess you was mistaken, son!" he answered rather nervously.
"No, don't you hear it from down by the crick bank?" cried the boy in the same excited whisper. His father was conscious of the wish that he would select a more normal tone. "There!" cried Custer. As he spoke, a cry, faint and wavering, reached Mr. Shrimplin's ears. "I do seem to hear something " he admitted. "What do you suppose it is?" asked the boy, peering off into the gloom.
Shrimplin's alarm, took that gentleman by the collar and deftly jerked him into an erect posture. "My dear sir!" the colonel began in a tone of mild expostulation, evidently thinking he had a drunken man to deal with. "My dear sir, do be more careful " then he recognized the lamplighter. "Well, upon my word, Shrimp, what's gone wrong with you?" he demanded, with military asperity.
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