Tom said: "You are going?"

"Yes," he answered, "I am going."

"Then I will go with you."

"Thank you, Tom," said the other quietly.

Meredith ran into his own room, pressed an electric button, sprang out of

his pyjamas like Aphrodite from the white sea-foam, and began to dive into

his clothes with a panting rapidity astonishingly foreign to his desire.

Jim appeared in the doorway.

"The cart, Jim," shouted his master. "We want it like lightning. Tell the

cook to give Mr. Harkless his breakfast in a hurry. Set a cup of coffee on

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the table by the front door for me. Run like the deuce! We've got to catch

a train.--That will be quicker than any cab," he explained to Harkless.

"We'll break the ordinance against fast driving, getting down there."

Ten minutes later the cart swept away from the house at a gait which

pained the respectable neighborhood. The big horse plunged through the

air, his ears laid flat toward his tail; the cart careened sickeningly;

the face of the servant clutching at the rail in the rear was smeared with

pallor as they pirouetted around curves on one wheel--to him it seemed

they skirted the corners and Death simultaneously--and the speed of their

going made a strong wind in their faces.

Harkless leaned forward.

"Can you make it a little faster, Tom?" he said.

They dashed up to the station amid the cries of people flying to the walls

for safety; the two gentlemen leaped from the cart, bore down upon the

ticket-office, stormed at the agent, and ran madly at the gates,

flourishing their passports. The official on duty eyed them wearily, and

barred the way.

"Been gone two minutes," he remarked, with a peaceable yawn.

Harkless stamped his foot on the cement flags; then he stood stock still,

gazing at the empty tracks; but Meredith turned to him, smiling.

"Won't it keep?" he asked.

"Yes, it will keep," John answered. "Part of it may have to keep till

election day, but some of it I will settle before night. And that," he

cried, between his teeth, "and that is the part of it in regard to young

Mr. Fisbee!"

"Oh, it's about H. Fisbee, is it?"

"Yes, it's H. Fisbee."

"Well, we might as well go up and see what the doctor thinks of you;

there's no train."

"I don't want to see a doctor again, ever--as long as I live. I'm as well

as anybody."




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