Then he heard a young woman softly ejaculate,—
“Te-he!”
The street was as dark as gas-lighted streets usually are; it was almost deserted, and the autumn evening was quite chilly, but Phil felt as if his blazing eyes were illuminating everything,—as if the walls had eyes to look disapprovingly at Haynton fashions, or as if his own blood were hot enough to warm the entire atmosphere of New York. He knew what he would do: when he reached Sol Mantring’s sloop he would remain aboard until she sailed; then he would go back to Haynton and remain there forever. He could exist without New York, if New York found him unsatisfactory. He didn’t care ever to see again anybody in New York, except, perhaps, Lucia. As for her, hadn’t even she——
Before the next car arrived, Phil had entirely changed his mind. Nevertheless, before continuing his journey he cautiously peered in to see if any of the passengers were likely to prove critical. There seemed to be no one to fear; at one end of the car was a shabby-looking peddler with his pack, evidently arrived by a late train from the suburbs; at the other an old man seemed inclined to doze, and directly opposite the newest passenger sat a plain, modest-looking person, whom a New Yorker would have rightly identified as a waiter at a restaurant or café. Apparently three persons less qualified or inclined to criticise personal appearance could not have been found by careful search; yet within five minutes Phil was sure that all of them had noticed him and studied him. As he was disinclined to squander another car-fare on his feelings, he sought the dusky seclusion of the rear platform and engaged the conductor in conversation, which on Phil’s part consisted solely of questions; yet he was astonished, as well as indignant, when the conductor remarked, at a moment when the talk showed signs of lagging,—
“You’re from the rural district, I s’pose?”
“What makes you say that?” asked Phil, indicating a sense of injury.
“Oh, I didn’t mean nothin’ out of the way,” said the conductor. “I only kinder thought I was sure—why, I come from the country myself; yes sir, an’ I ain’t ashamed of it, neither.”
The explanation was not satisfactory; so Phil completed the trip in gloomy silence, and he felt a sense of great relief when he reached Sol Mantring’s sloop and made his way into the little cabin, where, of the three men lying at ease, no one took the pains to intimate that Phil was anything but city-born and city-bred.
CHAPTER VI.
RECONSTRUCTION.
Phil devoted part of the next day to studying well-dressed business-men in the streets. Thanks to well-trained perceptive faculties, and also to some large mirrors which he accidentally encountered, he soon learned why his attire had attracted attention. Then he compared clothing-stores for an hour, finally entered one and asked how long it would take to make a well-fitting every-day suit. The salesman looked him over, and replied,—