_resk_ anything.' I told him you wouldn't take no stock in it, but, see
here, don't you put nothin' too mean fer them folks. I tell you, Mr.
Harkless, plenty of us are scared fer ye."

The good fellow was so earnest that when the editor's meal was finished
and he would have departed, Landis detained him almost by force until
the arrival of Mr. Willetts, who, the landlord knew, was his allotted
escort' for the evening. When Lige came (wearing a new tie, a pink one
he had hastened to buy as soon as his engagements had allowed him
the opportunity), Mr. Landis hissed a savage word of reproach for his
tardiness in his ear, and whisperingly bade him not let the other out
of reach that night, to which Willetts replied with a nod implying his
trustworthiness; and the young men set off in the darkness.

Harkless wondered if his costume were not an injustice to his companion,
but he did not regret it; he would wear his best court suit, his laces
and velvets, for deference to that lady. It was a painful thing to
remember his dusty rustiness of the night before, the awful Carlow cut
of his coat, and his formless black cravat; the same felt hat he wore
again to-night, perforce, but it was brushed--brushed almost to holes in
spots, and somehow he had added a touch of shape to it. His dress-coat
was an antique; fashions had changed, no doubt; he did not know;
possibly she would recognize its vintage--but it was a dress-coat.

Lige walked along talking; Harkless answering "Yes" and "No" at random.
The woodland-spiced air was like champagne to him; the road under foot
so elastic and springy that he felt like a thoroughbred before a race;
he wanted to lift his foot knee-high at every step, he had so much
energy to spare. In the midst of a speech of Lige's about the look of
the wheat he suddenly gave out a sigh so deep, so heartfelt, so vibrant,
so profound, that Willetts turned with astonishment; but when his eye
reached his companion's face, Harkless was smiling. The editor extended
his hand.

"Shake hands, Lige," he cried.

The moon peeped over the shoulder of an eastern wood, and the young
men suddenly descried their long shadows stretching in front of them.
Harkless turned to look at the silhouetted town, the tree-tops and roofs
and the Methodist church spire, silvered at the edges.

"Do you see that town, Willetts?" he asked, laying his fingers on his
companion's sleeve. "That's the best town in the United States!"

"I alway