“About half-past five, sir, or thereabouts,” was the answer, in a tone of mingled weariness and resentment. Plainly Mr. Johnson had been up all night and considered himself imposed upon.
I was thankful that my lapse from duty had been of no longer duration. It had been much too long as it was.
“How is Mr. Colton?” I asked.
“Better, sir, I believe. He is resting more quiet at present.”
“Where is Cahoon?”
“Here I be,” this from Phineas in the next room. “Have a good snooze, did you, Ros?”
“Too good.” I walked in and found him still sitting by the telegraph instrument. “Has anything happened?” I asked.
“Nary thing. All quiet as the tomb since that last message, the one you heard. Pretty nigh fell asleep myself, I did. Guess I should have, only Miss Colton she came in and kept me comp'ny for a spell.”
“Miss Colton—has she been here? Why didn't you call me, Ros?”
“I was goin' to, but she wouldn't let me. Said you was all wore out, poor feller, and that you wan't to be disturbed unless 'twas necessary. She's an awful nice young woman, ain't she. Nothin' stuck up about her, at all. Set here and talked with me just as sociable and folksy as if she wan't wuth a cent. Asked more questions than a few, she did.”