Seventeen | Page 4

to
walk at night through the negro quarter of the town. And though no
man could have sworn to the color of that hat, whether it was blue or
green, yet its color was a saner thing than its shape, which was blurred,
tortured, and raffish; it might have been the miniature model of a
volcano that had blown off its cone and misbehaved disastrously on its
lower slopes as well. He had the air of wearing it as a matter of course
and with careless ease, but that was only an air-- it was the apple of his
eye.
For the rest, his costume was neutral, subordinate, and even a little
neglected in the matter of a detail or two: one pointed flap of his soft
collar was held down by a button, but the other showed a frayed thread
where the button once had been; his low patent-leather shoes were of a
luster not solicitously cherished, and there could be no doubt that he
needed to get his hair cut, while something might have been done, too,
about the individualized hirsute prophecies which had made
independent appearances, here and there, upon his chin. He examined

these from time to time by the sense of touch, passing his hand across
his face and allowing his finger-tips a slight tapping motion wherever
they detected a prophecy.
Thus he fell into a pleasant musing and seemed to forget the crowded
street.

II
THE UNKNOWN
He was roused by the bluff greeting of an acquaintance not dissimilar
to himself in age, manner, and apparel.
``H'lo, Silly Bill!'' said this person, William Sylvanus Baxter. ``What's
the news?''
William showed no enthusiasm; on the contrary, a frown of annoyance
appeared upon his brow. The nickname ``Silly Bill''--long ago
compounded by merry child-comrades from ``William'' and
``Sylvanus''--was not to his taste, especially in public, where he
preferred to be addressed simply and manfully as ``Baxter.'' Any direct
expression of resentment, however, was difficult, since it was plain that
Johnnie Watson intended no offense whatever and but spoke out of
custom.
``Don't know any,'' William replied, coldly.
``Dull times, ain't it?'' said Mr. Watson, a little depressed by his friend's
manner. ``I heard May Parcher was comin' back to town yesterday,
though.''
``Well, let her!'' returned William, still severe.
``They said she was goin' to bring a girl to visit her,'' Johnnie began in a
confidential tone. ``They said she was a reg'lar ringdinger and--''
``Well, what if she is?'' the discouraging Mr. Baxter interrupted.
``Makes little difference to ME, I guess!''
``Oh no, it don't. YOU don't take any interest in girls! OH no!''
``No, I do not!'' was the emphatic and heartless retort. ``I never saw one
in my life I'd care whether she lived or died!''
``Honest?'' asked Johnnie, struck by the conviction with which this
speech was uttered. ``Honest, is that so?''
``Yes, `honest'!'' William replied, sharply. ``They could ALL die, I
wouldn't notice!''
Johnnie Watson was profoundly impressed. ``Why, I didn't know you

felt that way about 'em, Silly Bill. I always thought you were kind of--''
``Well, I do feel that way about 'em!'' said William Sylvanus Baxter,
and, outraged by the repetition of the offensive nickname, he began to
move away. ``You can tell 'em so for me, if you want to!'' he added
over his shoulder. And he walked haughtily up the street, leaving Mr.
Watson to ponder upon this case of misogyny, never until that moment
suspected.
It was beyond the power of his mind to grasp the fact that William
Sylvanus Baxter's cruel words about ``girls'' had been uttered because
William was annoyed at being called ``Silly Bill'' in a public place, and
had not known how to object otherwise than by showing contempt for
any topic of conversation proposed by the offender. This latter, being of
a disposition to accept statements as facts, was warmly interested,
instead of being hurt, and decided that here was something worth
talking about, especially with representatives of the class so sweepingly
excluded from the sympathies of Silly Bill.
William, meanwhile, made his way toward the ``residence section'' of
the town, and presently --with the passage of time found himself eased
of his annoyance. He walked in his own manner, using his shoulders to
emphasize an effect of carelessness which he wished to produce upon
observers. For his consciousness of observers was abnormal, since he
had it whether any one was looking at him or not, and it reached a
crucial stage whenever he perceived persons of his own age, but of
opposite sex, approaching.
A person of this description was encountered upon the sidewalk within
a hundred yards of his own home, and William Sylvanus Baxter saw
her while yet she was afar off. The quiet and shady thoroughfare was