"Yes, and he was from New York, too," said Mr. Yocomb.
"If I get lost, leave me to my fate. There will be one editor the less."
"Very true; but I'd rather have thee on thy paper than on my conscience. So Emily Warren, thee look after him, and show him the right and proper ways, for I am now too old to enjoy a night hunt, even with the music of fish-horns to cheer us on. I ask thee, Emily, for some of thine instead when thee comes back."
CHAPTER VIII
THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES
"Is it a task, then, to show me the right paths and proper ways?" I asked, as we strolled away, leaving Adah looking as if—in her curiosity to know more of the new species, a night editor—she wished Silas Jones in the depths of the Dead Sea.
"That may depend on how apt and interesting a scholar you prove. I'm a teacher, you know, and teaching some of my scholars is drudgery, and others a pleasure."
"So I'm put on my good behavior at once."
"You ought to be on your good behavior anyway—this is Sunday."
"Yes, and June. If a man is not good now he'll never be. And yet such people as Mrs. Yocomb—nor will I except present company—make me aware that I am not good—far from it."