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Carter's company had, of late, been pleasant to her. She had been strengthened in her own resolves towards a fine life by the sight of Mrs. Slater's sense of power. No, she could not now bear to let Mrs. Carter go. She said, therefore, nothing to her friend about the whisky, and on that evening Mrs. Carter did take the "veriest sip."
There was another guard in the hall, waiting for him with a little record-disk. "From Major Slater; call came in about ten minutes ago," he said. Cardon snapped the disk into his recorder-reproducer and put in the ear plug. "Frank," Slater's voice came out of the small machine. "You'd better get busy, or you won't have any candidate when the polls open tomorrow.
At Slater's Mews I found the poor doctor, who had already been there some two hours, packing up the literature, tying up forms, and occasionally turning to Short for instruction or advice. The latter, seated on a packing-case, was regaling himself on a bloater and cheesecakes, having disposed of which he took up a flute and played some snatches of music-hall melodies.
"Or if we only had John Slater's shotgun," added Sam. "Never mind. As I understand it, we are three to three," said Dick. "And we can arm ourselves with heavy sticks," which they presently proceeded to do, tearing up some bushes for that purpose. It was not long before they came in sight of a long, high hedge. Back of it was a white house, surrounded by numerous old trees.
At the restoration, suspecting the approach of the proper officers to expel him from the Parsonage-house, he crept into a hiding-place under the stairs; but, being discovered, was drawn out by force, and the place ever after, bore the name of Slater's Hole.
I gave him my name and address, and that of my brother's Socialist friend as a reference, and we agreed that I should move in on the following Monday morning. Great was the amusement at Slater's Mews at the account of our adventures, given with a few enlargements by M'Dermott. He had an artist's soul, and would never consent to destroy the effect of a tale by slavish subservience to facts.
Slater's friend, he would set about finding Mrs. Legrand himself, or, failing that, would go to some other medium. There would be no solace for the fever that had now got into his blood, until experiment should justify his daring hope, or prove it baseless. However, the third day after Mrs. Slater's letter there came one from her friend, Mrs. Rhinehart.
It was written neatly with carefully shaded capitals: Dear Tom: We are going to have a party to-morrow night, because George and Fred are going back to college next week. We want you to come and bring your Englishman. We all hope you will come. Ever your friend, Tom read it again with burning cheeks. A party at Slater's and him invited!
When they returned to the house it was quite dark, and they had lights in the sitting-room, and refreshments were served. Mrs. Slater's eyes were frequently drawn toward the picture over the fireplace, and some reference of hers to the immortelles in which it was framed, turned the conversation upon the subject that Miss Ludington and she had been discussing in the school-house. Mrs.
I regret to have to record the fact that the officiating parson was taken down to Tom Craddock's bar and there made very drunk indeed. When I camped near the Big Rock on Slater's Claim there lived, on the flat where the creek widened out under Gardiner's Point, an American named Knox. He was a tall, swarthy man of immensely powerful physique.
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