E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Martin Pettit, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) SUNDRY ACCOUNTS * * * * * BY IRVIN S. COBB FICTION SUNDRY ACCOUNTS J. POINDEXTER, COLORED BACK HOME FROM PLACE TO PLACE OLD JUDGE PRIEST LOCAL COLOR THOSE TIMES AND THESE THE ESCAPE OF MR. TRIMM WIT AND HUMOR ONE THIRD OFF A PLEA FOR OLD CAP COLLIER THE ABANDONED FARMERS THE LIFE OF THE PARTY EATING IN TWO OR THREE LANGUAGES "OH, WELL, YOU KNOW HOW WOMEN ARE!" FIBBLE D. D. "SPEAKING OF OPERATIONS----" EUROPE REVISED ROUGHING IT DE LUXE COBB'S BILL OF FARE COBB'S ANATOMY MISCELLANY THE THUNDERS OF SILENCE THE GLORY OF THE COMING PATHS OF GLORY "SPEAKING OF PRUSSIANS----" NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY * * * * * SUNDRY ACCOUNTS by IRVIN S. COBB Author of "Back Home," "Speaking of Operations--," "Old Judge Priest," Etc. [Illustration: Publisher's logo] New York George H. Doran Company Copyright, 1922, by George H. Doran Company [Illustration: Publisher's logo] Printed in the United States of America TO JOHN WILSON TOWNSEND, ESQUIRE CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I DARKNESS 11 II THE CATER-CORNERED SEX 57 III A SHORT NATURAL HISTORY 104 IV IT COULD HAPPEN AGAIN TO-MORROW 157 V THE RAVELIN' WOLF 212 VI "WORTH 10,000" 246 VII MR. LOBEL'S APOPLEXY 300 VIII ALAS, THE POOR WHIFFLETIT! 341 IX PLENTIFUL VALLEY 392 X A TALE OF WET DAYS 424 SUNDRY ACCOUNTS CHAPTER I DARKNESS There was a house in this town where always by night lights burned. In one of its rooms many lights burned; in each of the other rooms at least one light. It stood on Clay Street, on a treeless plot among flower beds, a small dull-looking house; and when late on dark nights all the other houses on Clay Street were solid blockings lifting from the lesser blackness of their background, the lights in this house patterned its windows with squares of brilliancy so that it suggested a grid set on edge before hot flames. Once a newcomer to the town, a transient guest at Mrs. Otterbuck's boarding house, spoke about it to old Squire Jonas, who lived next door to where the lights blazed of nights, and the answer he got makes a fitting enough beginning for this account. This stranger came along Clay Street one morning, and Squire Jonas, who was leaning over his gate contemplating the world as it passed in review, nodded to him and remarked that it was a fine morning; and the stranger was emboldened to stop and pass the time of day, as the saying goes.