“No,” I said, “I’m going to stay.” (It was a foolish pride and stubbornness that made me say it; I wanted to go already.)
“Well, good-by, Jud.”
“Good-by, Tom,” I said.
He walked away, then turned and said:
“Now, Jud, for the last time: Will you come?”
“No, I won’t!”
In another minute the train rolled away, with Tom standing on the back platform with his hand on the bell-rope ready to pull it if I signaled him to stop. 42
But I didn’t. I went on over to the Headquarters House. It was beginning to get dark; and the snow was falling again. The door was stuck fast, but I set my shoulder against it and pushed it open. The snow had blown in the crack and made a drift halfway across the floor. I put my hand on the stove. It was cold, and the fire was out.