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Updated: June 20, 2025
Proudly she disclaimed any need for money, and not until her visitor departed did she read Billy's note: Dear Saxon Bud Strothers is going to give you this. Don't worry about me. I am going to take my medicine. I deserve it you know that. I guess I am gone bughouse. Just the same, I am sorry for what I done. Don't come to see me. I don't want you to.
Besides and she acknowledged it readily, though in a cold, dead way besides, Billy was better than most husbands. At eleven o'clock she had a caller. It was Bud Strothers, Billy's mate on strike duty. Billy, he told her, had refused bail, refused a lawyer, had asked to be tried by the Court, had pleaded guilty, and had received a sentence of sixty dollars or thirty days.
I met both Ellen Gray and Esther Dearborn the other day, and where do you think it was? At Mary Silver's wedding! Yes, she is actually married to the Rev. Charles Playfair Strothers, and settled in a little parsonage somewhere in the Hoosac Tunnel, or near it, and already immersed in "duties." I can't think what arguments he used to screw her up to the rash act; but there she is.
Just the same he says to me Strothers, if you ain't at liberty to give me his address, just write yourself and tell him for me to come a running. I'll give him a hundred and twenty-five a month to take hold the stables." Saxon waited with well-concealed anxiety when the letter was finished. Billy, stretched out, leaning on one elbow, blew a meditative ring of smoke.
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