When it was decided that he was to stay in the office until some older person was found he had scrubbed his face and hands, put on his Sunday clothes, combed and brushed and parted his hair, as Mark wore his, and felt himself quite equal to the emergency. Knowing that Craig was expected that day he had looked for him on the noon train, and when he didn’t come, was sure he would arrive on the six.
“Can I go down in the ’bus with the mail and meet Mr. Mason, or anybody else who happens to be stopping off? You know there’s a little hotel opened on Elm Street, and they are trying to git your custom,” he said to Mr. Taylor, who, pleased to find him with such an eye to business, assented readily.
The ’bus started from the post office, and Jeff went there to take it, and climbing to the box with the driver lighted a cigarette, when sure he was out of sight of the Prospect House. He had been sent supperless to bed twice when bits of cigarettes had been found in his pocket, and it would never do for a similar indignity to be offered to him now. He was a hotel clerk and he smoked on serenely till the station was reached and Mr. Mason alighted from the train.
“I’ll take your bag and box. Will you walk or ride?” he said to Craig, who, realizing who it was that had taken possession of him, said pleasantly, “Hallo, Jeff, is it you? How are you?”
“First rate, but there’s high old Jinx at the hotel, and I’m the clerk now!” Jeff replied, with quite an air of importance.
“You the clerk! And high old Jinx? What do you mean?” Craig asked, and Jeff, who was bursting to tell the news, began: “Mr. Hilton has gone off,—run away,—eloped with Miss Helen, and took the diamonds. They was married Thursday in New York and started last night for Chicago, and Miss Tracy screeched so you could hear her across the street. She’s in bed now with water bags and flat irons and things, and I’m the clerk pro tem. That’s what Sarah said. What does pro tem mean?”
Jeff had told his story in a breath, but was not prepared for the effect it had on Craig, who turned as white as the paper box which held the roses, and grasped Jeff’s shoulder to steady himself and keep from tottering, if not falling outright. It was as if a heavy blow had been dealt him in his stomach, nauseating and making him faint and dizzy, and for a moment he hardly knew where he was.
“Going to ride?” the ’bus driver called to him.
Craig looked up and saw in the ’bus a woman who he knew lived in the town. He could not face her with that terrible trouble on his mind.
“I’ll walk,” he said, and the ’bus drove off, leaving him alone with Jeff, who was looking curiously at him.