the Scientific Mind

Barbee, as he himself would have expressed it, was soured on life. At
least for the moment, and after all that is about all that life is, the
instant that it is passing. When Longstreet called to him he grunted
in disgust. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and spat out
the cold stump of his cigarette. It was Barbee's natural way to swing
along with his hat far back, so that he might see the stars. Now his
hat brim was dragged low, and for Barbee the stars were only less
remote and frigid than a certain fickle woman.

'I say, Barbee,' called the professor a second time.

Barbee slumped on without turning, but growled over his shoulder:

'Can't you leave a man alone?'

Longstreet doubted his ears; the boy had been so friendly. He tried
hurriedly and in vain to recall some trifle in which perhaps, being
misunderstood, he had offended. During his mental uncertainty the
natural physical hesitancy had resulted in Barbee's gaining a lead of a
dozen steps. Hence when a white figure flitted out from the shadows to
the boy's side, Longstreet was not near enough to hear the whispered
words; the soft trill of a laugh he caught, to be sure, and immediately
recognized as Mrs. Murray's. Then she had drawn away from Barbee,
called good night and passed on to the hotel, so close to Longstreet
that her skirts brushed him. Barbee stood still watching her until she
disappeared under the porch vines. Longstreet came on to his side
then. They fell into step and again Barbee was swaggering with his old
buoyancy; again his hat was far back, and his eyes were on the stars.

'Hello, old sport,' he said affably. 'Some night, ain't it?'

To know why a man of the type of James Edward Longstreet should be
flattered at being called 'old sport' by one of the type of Yellow
Barbee is to understand human nature; Longstreet was utterly human.
The bonds of environment are bands of steel; the little boy that close
to threescore years ago was Johnny Longstreet had been restricted by
them, his growth had been that of a gourd with a strap about its
middle; he had perforce grown in conformity with the commands of the
outside pressure. Had he been born in Poco Poco and reared on a ranch,
it is at least likely that he would not have been a professor in an
Eastern university. Now that the steel girdles of environment were
stricken off it appeared that the youthful heart of him stimulated new
growth. As for her