He looked timidly at her, and took the hands she gave him; then he produced from his pocket a yellow telegraph envelope, watching her anxiously as she received it.

However, she seemed to attach no particular importance to it, and, instead of opening it, leaned toward him, still holding one of his hands.
"These awful old men!" Harkless groaned inwardly as he handed the horses over to the judge.

"I dare say _he_'ll kiss her, too." But, when the editor and Mr.Willetts had gone, it was Helen who kissed Fisbee.
"They're coming out to spend the evening, aren't they ?" asked Briscoe, nodding to the young men as they set off down the road.
"Lige has to come whether he wants to or not," Minnie laughed, rather consciously; "It's his turn to-night to look after Mr.Harkless." "I guess he won't mind coming," said the judge.
"Well," returned his daughter, glancing at Helen, who stood apart, reading the telegram to Fisbee, "I know if he follows Mr.Harkless he'll get here pretty soon after supper--as soon as the moon comes up, anyway." The editor of the "Herald" was late to his supper that evening.

It was dusk when he reached the hotel, and, for the first time in history, a gentleman sat down to meat in that house of entertainment in evening dress.

There was no one in the diningroom when he went in; the other boarders had finished, and it was Cynthia's "evening out," but the landlord came and attended to his guests' wants himself, and chatted with him while he ate.
"There's a picture of Henry Clay," remarked Landis, in obvious relevancy to his companion's attire, "there's a picture of Henry Clay somewheres about the house in a swallow-tail coat.