“Good night,” answered Russell. “I’ll look after everything, sir. By jove, it’s six o’clock!”
“Right-o! I must toddle. You coming over?”
A few minutes later, having put out the lights and securely locked the door, Russell fell in beside Jimmy and the two went briskly off toward the Green. Jimmy was whistling again, but now he had quite forgotten his great sorrow and the sounds he made no longer disguised a crushed spirit and a broken heart. At the corner of State street Russell broke in on the melody.
“Austen, I wish you’d do something for me,” he said.
“Name it,” answered Jimmy promptly. “Hang you, keep still!”
The latter part of the remark was addressed to the parcel he carried, which was earnestly striving to distribute its contents along the way.
“I want to—I want some advice,” continued Russell.
“In that case you’ve come to the right person, Emerson. I’m famous for my advice. What’s the problem?”
Thereupon Russell told about Steve Gaston’s visit and the resulting complications. “Now,” ended Russell, “do you think I ought to go back to the team, Austen?”
“Hm,” said Jimmy. “Well, I don’t just see how you can, you know!”