quiet. Well, what did 'Lige do?
Nothin'! Smiled kinder sickly, looked sorter wild, and shut up. He
didn't suicide much. No, sir! He didn't kill himself,--not he. Why, old
Bixby--and he's a deacon in good standin'--allowed, in 'Lige's hearin'
and for 'Lige's benefit, that self-destruction was better nor bad
example, and proved it by Scripture too. And yet 'Lige did nothin'!
Desp'rit! He's only desp'rit to laze around and fish all day off a log
in the tules, and soak up with whiskey, until, betwixt fever an' ague
and the jumps, he kinder shakes hisself free o' responsibility."

A long silence followed; it was somehow felt that the subject was
incongruously exciting; Billings allowed himself to lapse again behind
the back of his chair. Meantime it had grown so dark that the dull glow
of the stove was beginning to outline a faint halo on the ceiling even
while it plunged the further lines of shelves behind the counter into
greater obscurity.

"Time to light up, Harkutt, ain't it?" said Wingate, tentatively.

"Well, I was reckoning ez it's such a wild night there wouldn't be any
use keepin' open, and when you fellows left I'd just shut up for good
and make things fast," said Harkutt, dubiously. Before his guests had
time to fully weigh this delicate hint, another gust of wind shook the
tenement, and even forced the unbolted upper part of the door to yield
far enough to admit an eager current of humid air that seemed to justify
the wisdom of Harkutt's suggestion. Billings slowly and with a sigh
assumed a sitting posture in the chair. The biscuit-nibbler selected a
fresh dainty from the counter, and Wingate abstractedly walked to the
window and rubbed the glass. Sky and water had already disappeared
behind a curtain of darkness that was illuminated by a single point of
light--the lamp in the window of some invisible but nearer house--which
threw its rays across the glistening shallows in the road. "Well," said
Wingate, buttoning up his coat in slow dejection, "I reckon I oughter
be travelin' to help the old woman do the chores before supper." He had
just recognized the light in his own dining-room, and knew by that sign
that his long-waiting helpmeet had finally done the chores herself.

"Some folks have it mighty easy," said Billings, with long-drawn
discontent, as he struggled to his feet. "You've only a step to go,
and yer's me and Peters there"--indicating the biscuit-nibbler, who was
beginning to show alarming signs of