Doc. Gordon | Page 4

to be
sorry," said she. "I could have any one of a dozen I know if I jest held
out my little finger."
"Of course, you could," James said. He felt apologetic, although he did
not know exactly why. He fumbled over the change, and at last made it
right with a quarter extra for the girl.
"It's a quarter too much," said she.
"Keep it, please."
She hesitated. She was frowning under her great blonde roll, her mouth
looked hurt.
"What a fuss about a quarter," said James, with a laugh. "Keep it. That's
a good girl."
Mame took a dingy handkerchief out of the bosom of her blouse, untied
a corner, and James heard a jingle of coins meeting. Then she laughed.
"You're an awful fraud," said she.
"Why?"
"You can't cheat me, if you did Bill Slattery."

"I think I don't know what you mean."
"You're a gent."
The girl's thin, coarse laughter rang out after James as he descended the
steps of the quick-lunch wagon. She opened the door directly after he
had closed it, and stood on the top step with the cold wind agitating her
fair hair. "Say," she called after him.
James turned as he walked away. "What is it?"
"Nothin', only I was foolin' you, and so was Bill. I've got a feller, and
Bill's him."
"I'll make you a present when you're married," James called back with
a laugh.
"It's to come off next summer," cried the girl.
"I won't forget," answered James. He knew the girl lied; that she was
not about to marry the workingman. He said to himself, as he strode on
refreshed with his coarse fare, that girls were extraordinary: first they
were bold to positive indecency, then modest to the borders of insanity.
James walked on. He reached Stanbridge about noon. Then he was
hungry again. There was a good hotel there, and he made a substantial
meal. He had a smoke and a rest of half an hour, then he resumed his
walk. He soon passed the outskirts of Stanbridge, which was a small,
old city, then he was in the country. The houses were sparsely set well
back from the road. He met nobody, except an occasional countryman
driving a wood-laden team. Presently the road lay between stately
groves of oaks, although now and then they stood on one side only of
the highway. Nearly all the oaks bore a shag of dried leaves about their
trunks, like mossy beards of old men, only the shag was a bright russet
instead of white. The ground under the oaks was like cloth-of-gold
under the sun, the fallen leaves yet retained so much color. James heard
a sharp croak, then a crow flew with wide flaps of dark wings across
the road and perched on an oak bough. It cocked its head, and watched

him wisely. James whistled at it, but it did not stir. It remained with its
head cocked in that attitude of uncanny wisdom.
Suddenly James saw before him the figure of a girl, moving swiftly.
She must have come out of the wood. She went as freely as a woodland
thing, although she was conventionally dressed in a tailor suit of brown.
Her hat, too, was brown, and a brown feather curled over the brim. She
walked fast, with evidently as much enjoyment of the motion as James
himself. They both walked like winged things.
Suddenly James had a queer experience. One sense became transposed
into another, as one changes the key in music. He heard absolutely
nothing, but it was as if he saw a noise. He saw a man standing on the
right between him and the girl. The man had not made the slightest
sound, he was sure. James had good ears, but sound and not sight was
what betrayed him, or rather sound transposed into sight. He stood as
motionless as a tree himself. James knew that he had been looking at
the girl. Now she was looking at him. James felt a long shudder creep
over him. He had never been afraid of anything except fear. Now he
was afraid of fear, and there was something about the man which
awakened this terror, yet it was inexplicable. He was a middle-aged
man, and distinctly handsome. He was something above the medium
height, and very well dressed. He wore a fur-lined coat which looked
opulent. He had gray hair and a black mustache. There was nothing
menacing in his face. He was, indeed, smiling a curious retrospective
smile, as if at his own thoughts. Although his eyes regarded James
attentively, this smiling mouth seemed entirely oblivious of him. The
man gave an odd impression, as of two personalities: the one observant,
with an animal-like observance for his own weal or