The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1903-02-01

| pearl pin. After that he had long,
solemn time arranging his hair with
| a pair of brushes. When at last he
was suited, and his dressing complet-
| ed, he sailed forth TO breakfast.
] Xenophon stared after him as he
/ went out Of the gate whistling heartily.
| The old darby lifted his hands, palms
outward.
Ian name. who dat" he exclaimed
! aloud. "WhO dat in dem pan-jingeries?
He jne' de circus?' His hands fell
/ upon his knees. and he got to his feet
! automatically. shaking his head with
j forebodinE. Honey, honey, hit bald
/ luck. bald luck sing 70 breakfus.
/ Troubue TO de day be done. Trouble,
/ honey. gre't trouble Bald luck. bald
( luck"
Along the Square the passing of the
editor in his cool equipment evoked
some gasps of establishment; and Mr..
Tibbs and his sister rushed from the
pOstottice to stare after him.
He looks just beautiful Solomon"
said Miss Tibbs
But what's the name for them kind
of clOthes?" inquired her brother
Seems to me there's a special way
of calm 'em. Seems as if l see
picture of 'em, somewheres. Wasn't It
on the cover of that there long-tennis
box we bought and put in the window,
and the country people thought it was
seining outfit?"
1T was a game, the catalogue said"
observed Miss Selma. Wasn't ito"
1T was a mighty pore investment"
the postmaster answered.
As Harkless approached the hotel,
decrepit old man. in a vast straw hat
and a linen buster much too large for
him. came haltingly forward to meet
10 ,htric
husband. And, as did every one else.
he spoke of his wife by the name of
her former marital companion.
Ben a-lookin fer you. Mr.. Hark-
less, he said in a shaking spindle Of
voice. as plaintive as his pale little
eyes. Mother Windy, she sent some
roses to We. Cynthy's fixin' EN- on yer
table. I'm we'll as ever / am; but her,
she's too complaining to come i'm fer
show-day. This morning. early, we see
some the Cross Roads folks pass the
place towards town, an she sent me in
to tell We. Oh, / knowed ye'd laugh.
Says she, He's too much of a man to
be skeered. says She these here tall,
big men always low nothin' on earth
kin hurt EN- says she, but you tell
him to be keerfuL' says she; an l see
Bill Skillet an his brother on the
Square lessun a half-an-hour ago, tn
my own eyes. I won't keep we from yer
breakfast-Eph Watts is in there, eat
in. He's come back: but I guess I
don't need to warn We agin' him. He
seems peaceable enough. It's the other
folks you got to look out fer
He iimped away. The editor waved
his hand to him from the door, but the
old fellow shook his head, and made
a warming, friendly gesture with his
arm. "a
alone, as he was the latest riser in
Plattville. (There were days in the
winter when he did not reach the hotel
until o'clock.) This morning he found
bunch of white roses, still wet with
dew and so fragrant that the whole
room was fresh and sweet with their
odor. prettily arranged in bowl on
the table, and, at his plate. the largest
of all with pin through the stem. He
looked up, smilingly, and nodded at
the red-haired girl THANK you,
Charmion,' he said. That's very pref
ty."
She turned even redder than she al
ways was, and answered nothing, Wig
orously darting her brush at an inn
aginary fly on the cloth. After several
minutes she said abruptly, you're
welcome"
mere was a SlleIlte, finally broken
by a long, gasping sigh. Astonished,
he looked at the girl Her eyes were
set unfathomably upon his pink tie;
the wand had dropped from her nerve
less hand, and she stood rapt and inn
movable. She started violently from
her trance. "Ain't you goin' to finish
your coffee?" she asked, plying her in
strument again, and, bending over him
slightly, whispered; Say, Eph Watts
is over there behind you
At a table in far corner of the
| room large. gentleman in brown
frock coat was quietly eating his
breakfast and reading the Herald
He was of an ornate presence, though
entirely neat.- ssumptuous eXpanse OF
linen exhibited itself between the lap
els of his low-Cut waistcoat, and an
inch of bediamonded breastpin glitter
ed there, like an ice-ledge on a snowy
mountain side. He had a steady blue
eye and q dissipated, iron-gray mus
tache. This parsonage was Mr.
Ephraim Watts, who, following a call
ing more fashionable in the eighteenth
century than in the latter decades OF
the nineteenth, had shaken the dust OF
Carlow county from his feet some three
years previously. at the strong request
of the authorities. The Herald" had
been particularly insistent upon his
deportation. and, in the local phrase
| Harkless had run him out of town.
Perhaps it was because the "Herald's''
opposition Gas the editor explained at
the time) had been merely moral and
| impersonal, and the editor had always
confessed to a liking for the unprofes-
sional qualities of Mr. Watts, that
| there was but slight embarra ssment
when the two gentlemen met to-day
| His breakfast finished, Harkless went
! over to the other and extended his
| hand Cynthia held her breath and
clutched the back of a chair. However,
Mr. Watts made no motion toward his
well known hip pocket. Instead, he
rose, flushing slightly, and accepted
| the hand offered him.
I'm glad to see you, Mr.. Watts -
said the journalist, cordially also, if
you are running with the circus and
calculate on doing business here to-
day. I'll have to see that you are fired