"I was just sayin' that maybe I could get Lem Hawkins to loan me his hearse."
Mr. Squires put his hand over his mouth and looked away. When he turned back to the unhappy official, his voice was gentler.
"You leave her to me, old fellow. I'll take care of her. She can stay here till after dark and I'll see that she gets home all right."
"By gosh, Harry, you're a real friend. I—I won't ferget this,—no, sir, never!"
"What are you going to do first?"
"I'm goin' to get my wife out of that den of iniquity and take her home!" said Anderson resolutely.
"Whether she's willing,—or not?"
"Don't you worry. I got that all thought out. If she won't let me take her home, I'll let on as if I'm full and then she'll insist on takin' me home."
With that he was gone.
The crowd in front of the Banner office now numbered at least a hundred. Mr. Crow stopped at the top of the steps and swiftly ran his eye over the excited throng. He was thinking hard and quite rapidly—for him. All the while the crowd was shouting questions at him, he was deliberately counting noses. Suddenly he held up his hand. There was instant, expectant silence.