Before the court adjourned that day it was known throughout the
town that Adoniram K. Hotchkiss had compromised the suit for four
thousand dollars and costs.
Colonel Starbottle had so far recovered his equanimity as to strut
jauntily towards his office, where he was to meet his fair client.
He was surprised, however, to find her already there, and in
company with a somewhat sheepish-looking young man—a stranger. If
the Colonel had any disappointment in meeting a third party to the
interview, his old-fashioned courtesy did not permit him to show
it. He bowed graciously, and politely motioned them each to a seat.
“I reckoned I’d bring Hiram round with me,” said the young lady,
lifting her searching eyes, after a pause, to the Colonel’s,
“though he was awful shy, and allowed that you didn’t know him from
Adam—or even suspected his existence. But I said, ‘That’s just
where you slip up, Hiram; a pow’ful man like the Colonel knows
everything—and I’ve seen it in his eye.’ Lordy!” she continued,
with a laugh, leaning forward over her parasol, as her eyes again
sought the Colonel’s, “don’t you remember when you asked me if I
loved that old Hotchkiss, and I told you ‘That’s tellin’,’ and you
looked at me, Lordy! I knew _then_ you suspected there was a Hiram
_somewhere_—as good as if I’d told you. Now, you, jest get up,
Hiram, and give the Colonel a good handshake. For if it wasn’t for
_him_ and _his_ searchin’ ways, and _his_ awful power of language,
I wouldn’t hev got that four thousand dollars out o’ that flirty
fool Hotchkiss—enough to buy a farm, so as you and me could get
married! That’s what you owe to _him_. Don’t stand there like a
stuck fool starin’ at him. He won’t eat you—though he’s killed many
a better man. Come, have _I_ got to do _all_ the kissin’!”
It is of record that the Colonel bowed so courteously and so
profoundly that he managed not merely to evade the proffered hand
of the shy Hiram, but to only lightly touch the franker and more
impulsive fingertips of the gentle Zaidee. “I—er—offer my sincerest
congratulations—though I think you—er—overestimate—my—er—powers
of penetration. Unfortunately, a pressing engagement, which may
oblige me also to leave town to-night, forbids my saying more. I
have—er—left the—er—business settlement of this—er—case in the
hands of the lawyers who do my office-work, and who will show you
every attention. And now let me wish you a very good afternoon.”
Nevertheless, the Colonel returned to his private room, and it was
nearly twilight when the faithful Jim entered, to find him sitting
meditatively before his desk. “‘Fo’ God! Kernel—I hope dey ain’t
nuffin de matter, but you’s lookin’ mightly solemn! I ain’t seen
you look dat way, Kernel, since de day pooh Marse Stryker was
fetched home shot froo de head.”
“Hand me down the whiskey, Jim,” said the Colonel, rising slowly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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