It's his turn next, he forgot, too, last night.
I'm laying for him." One of the negro women came scrambling down stairs as pale as a sorrel horse with consternation and excitement: "Misto Marsh, Misto Allen's skipped out!" "What!" "Yes-sah, and cleaned out his room clean; tuck bofe towels en de soap!" "You lie, you hussy!" "It's jes' so, jes' as I tells you--en Misto Summer's socks is gone, en Misto Naylor's yuther shirt." Mr.Marsh was at boiling point by this time.

He turned upon Tracy: "Answer up now--when are you going to settle ?" "To-day--since you seem to be in a hurry." "To-day is it?
Sunday--and you out of work?
I like that.

Come--where are you going to get the money ?" Tracy's spirit was rising again.

He proposed to impress these people: "I am expecting a cablegram from home." Old Marsh was caught out, with the surprise of it.

The idea was so immense, so extravagant, that he couldn't get his breath at first.